Single
by moirariordan
Summary: "Holy shit," Luke says. "Is that a baby?" [Jess-centric gen]
1. Chapter 1

The first few months are a bust, Jess is a wreck. He'll think back on it later and remember only how tired he was, how messy the apartment became, Willa crying, over and over, all night, until her voice goes hoarse, Willa, Willa, Willa. Nobody he knows in town comes to visit, and Luke doesn't know, so his downstairs neighbor starts picking up groceries for him. Mrs. Hartfield is her name, she's sixty-two years old and a widow and her kids don't talk to her anymore, and she tells him what formula to buy and offers to babysit.

"Look at this beautiful girl," she says to Jess, but she's really speaking to Willa, who looks up at both of them and seems really unimpressed. But she's not crying, and Jess holds his breath. "Keeping your daddy up all night. Just want everyone to know you're here, don't you?"

Jess has paid three different doctors to tell him the exact same unhelpful things in the last month, and this is the first time Willa has seemed relatively calm since the day he took her home. "Either that or she doesn't like me that much," he says, only halfway joking. He's been having nightmares.

"Pfft," says Hartfield, and scoops Willa up into her craggy, elderly arms. Willa scrunches up her face and Jess goes tense, but all that comes out is a tiny, pathetic sneeze, and then the kid falls quiet and, miraculously, allows herself to be cuddled. "There we go. You're gonna be trouble. I can tell. Where's she been sleeping?"

It takes Jess a second to realize the question is directed at him. "Crib," he says dumbly, swaying a little on his feet. He blinks around at the apartment, seeing it for the first time. "There's a crib, uh, I have a crib."

"Try keeping her in bed with you tonight, see how that goes," Hartfield says, bouncing gently. "She's anxious. Oh, look at you." She lays her cheek against the crown of Willa's head and keeps bouncing, humming softly under her breath. Jess watches, his throat aching, and feels like an idiot. "Just wanna be held."

"I hold her," Jess says, and hears it come out wrong, too defensive. He didn't mean that the way it sounded.

"You're anxious too," Hartfield replies, giving him a stink eye. Willa's tiny hand comes up to bounce off the old woman's cheek, and Jess hears her make a tiny little sound of contentment that he's only heard from her once or twice, on the rare occasion when he's managed to keep her calm and happy for more than a minute or two. "She can feel it! She can feel everything you feel, especially when you're holding her. You're her daddy, she knows. You gotta be calm for her."

Three months ago Jess was just a guy, and now he's a dad, and Hartfield wants him to be calm. "Right."

"Or, fake it, at least," Hartfield says, a touch more sympathetically. She bounces over, smiling crookedly. "Here, take her. I'll put the food away."

"You don't have to," Jess says, but his arms are already open, his eyes locked on Willa's. She is so rarely quiet like this, so rarely open, and happy to see him. It feels like a gift.

"I'll make some lunch. When was the last time you ate something that didn't come out of a plastic tray? Never mind," Hartfield says. "Sit down with her for a bit, she'll fall asleep, probably. Go on."

Jess sits, and Hartfield leaves. Willa reaches up and taps his chest with her fist.

"Thanks," Jess says, and Willa blinks. She's got his hair, his eyes. Her mother's skin, and her chin too, and sometimes Jess swears she grins at him the same way Mari used to, with just a corner of her mouth. There's a birthmark on her arm that looks like an almond. Jess touches it with the corner of his thumb, and she twitches away, her nose crinkling.

"Sorry," he says. Willa wiggles in his arms, and Jess feels his chest falling in on itself, a cave collapsing between his ribs. What is he doing? "I'm sorry," he says, thickly. What the fuck is he doing?

Willa makes a soft noise, and fist bumps his chest again. Jess swallows the panic and kisses her forehead. She socks him in the jaw.

"You're not one of those vegans, are you?" Hartfield asks, popping her head out.

"We're _Italian_ ," Jess tells her. Willa yells happily in agreement.

"Thank God," Hartfield says, and laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

"Holy shit," Luke says. "Is that a baby?"

Jess sighs. "Nice of you to call first, Uncle Luke."

"Holy shit," Luke says again.

April pops up from behind his shoulder, grinning manically. "Bad word jar," she says. "Hi, Jess!"

"Hey, kiddo," Jess says, and steps aside to let them inside.

Luke makes only the bare minimum movement required to clear the front door, still gaping at Willa. "Who gave you a baby?"

"I picked her up at Costco," Jess says, hitching Willa a little higher up on his hip. She clutches at his arm and gives Luke the stink-eye, loyal to the right people as always. Jess is very proud of her. "They were fifty percent off if you bought a washing machine and you know, I couldn't say no to a deal like that."

April walks right up to him, peering at Willa. "She's cute," she announces. "Congrats, dude."

"Thanks," Jess says, at the same time that Luke says, "don't call him 'dude.'"

"Why not?" April asks.

"What are you, a surfer? Don't call people 'dude,'" Luke gripes. "She's been watching these stoner movies."

"Stoner movies," Jess says.

"Oh my God, he walks in on me and Kathleen watching Bill and Ted once, and he thinks I'm headed for complete moral depravity," April says. "Can I hold her?"

"Sure," Jess says, and starts the process of untangling Willa's fingers from the buttonholes of his shirt. "Don't be weird if she starts to cry, she takes a while to warm up to people."

"I'm great with babies," April assures him, and carefully wraps her arms around Willa, cradling her gently against her chest. Willa looks back at Jess with a vaguely betrayed look on her face, and pounds her fist in outrage against April's shoulder. "Hey, she likes me!"

"Sure, that's what that means," Jess says, keeping one hand on Willa's back. They've got a good ten, fifteen minutes of non-crying time, so long as Willa is reasonably assured that everybody is paying enough attention to her.

Luke, swinging back and forth between glaring at Jess and gaping at the baby, snorts. "Okay," he says, holding out his hands, "okay. This is…very funny. You're hilarious."

Jess looks over at him, carefully arranging his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Whose kid is this?" Luke demands. "Are you babysitting or something? Jess, I told you if you needed money to come to me, you don't need to do this."

"I'm not babysitting," Jess says derisively, and April rolls her eyes so hard her head kind of sways with the motion. "Who babysits as a profession?"

"You should be concentrating on your writing," Luke says.

"I'm not babysitting!"

"Dad," April says, long-suffering, "it's his baby. The baby's his. I mean, look at her!" She raises Willa up just a fraction, waggling her eyebrows. Willa babbles in annoyance, waving her fists at the entire room, collectively. "Look at her cheekbones!"

Luke freezes in place, then laughs. "Okay," he says, nodding a little too fast. "Okay. Okay."

"Her name's Willa," Jess says, and pauses to rearrange his face again when Luke looks at him, eyes wide. "She's…I named her Willa."

"Jess," Luke says, and suddenly Jess can't hold eye contact. The air in the room feels suddenly very, very warm.

"Ow!" April says, and then jumps when both of them turn to look at her in surprise. "Sorry. She got my glasses."

Jess reaches out and pushes them back up her nose for her. "She likes you," he says. Willa glares at both of them.

"She's very, um," April says, struggling to hold on as Willa squirms, "lively. Oh my God - "

Jess swipes her back into his arms, a preventative measure. Willa is determined to give every adult she knows a lifelong guilt complex about dropping her on hard surfaces. "That's one word for it."

"Who's her mom?" April asks innocently. "Your Facebook status says 'single.'"

"Are we friends on Facebook?" Jess asks, surprised. He's not sure he even remembers his password.

"I hacked into it and added myself," April says. "I added Aunt Liz too, but I told T.J. you didn't have one. You're welcome."

"Okay," Jess says blankly. Willa says another nonsense word, and starts working her fingers back into his buttonholes. "Her mom's not in the picture. We weren't even dating."

"Were you friends with benefits?" April asks, grimacing in some kind of weird, teenage imitation of bro solidarity.

"How old are you again?" Jess asks.

"I am sixteen, thank you very much," April says, huffing. "How old are you?"

"I can't remember," Jess tells her honestly.

"Okay!" Luke says, and stomps into the apartment, shouldering his way between the two of them. "Okay!"

Jess and April watch as he starts rooting around the living room, glaring angrily at each piece of furniture that he encounters. "What," Jess says, "is he doing?"

"I think he's looking for hidden cameras," April says.

"This is lunacy," Luke shouts. Willa babbles loudly, pulling at Jess' shirt, and Luke whirls around to point at her. "Thank you! See, this, this is a smart baby. Who do you belong to, baby?"

"She belongs to me, Luke," Jess says. Willa keeps babbling, shaking one fist in the air like an old man, and Jess has a sudden flashback to Luke-from-seven-years-ago, yelling at Jess about something and shaking his fist in almost exactly the same way. He feels, very suddenly, lightheaded.

"Hah!" Luke says. He glares at Jess, then at April, then at the ceiling. "Hah!"

April sighs. "This is how he processes things," she says. "Dad. Dad! Did you look at her cheekbones? They're Jess' cheekbones, Dad!"

"Yes, April, I can see she has cheekbones," Luke says. He stomps over, gesturing emphatically at Willa, who of course seems to find it hilarious, and babbles louder. "She has cheekbones and a nose and eyes and hair and all the normal things that babies have, what I can't see is how that means she's Jess' daughter, because surely if Jess went off and made a major life decision like having a child, he would tell people about it and not just surprise them with a fully-grown infant out of nowhere because Jess is an adult now who makes adult decisions, right Jess? Are you an adult?"

Jess takes a deep breath. "Ye - "

"Great! You know what adults do, Jess? They tell their families when they have families! Holy shit, does Liz know about this? Jess I swear to God if you make me tell Liz and T.J. about this I'm going to punch you in the face. I will punch you right in the face!"

Jess pauses, waiting to see if he's finished, but Luke just breathes heavily, glaring. Willa sticks her fist in her mouth, fascinated.

"Maybe we should talk in the kitchen," he says.

"Oh, talk in the kitchen, he says!" Luke exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "Sure, Jess, let's go talk in the kitchen. Let's go talk in the kitchen about your baby, because you have a baby! Holy shit, you have a baby." Luke straightens up suddenly, his face growing slack. "You have a baby. This is your baby."

"Yes," Jess says cautiously, exchanging a look with April. She gives him an encouraging grin. "Yes. Willa."

"You have a baby, and this is my niece," Luke says.

"Grand niece," April corrects.

"Whatever," Luke says. "Okay, hand her over."

"I'm sorry, are you asking to hold her?" Jess asks. "Are you asking to hold my child, or demanding that I throw her at you like a football, because what you just said sounded like the latter."

"Do you have any idea what my blood pressure was at my last doctor's appointment?" Luke demands. "Of course you don't, because you only call me once every two years when the stars align and all the crows start flying backwards. Quit giving me crap and hand her over."

"You say that like it's not common knowledge that you have high blood pressure," Jess says. "People who don't even know you know you have high blood pressure, Luke."

"Jess!" Luke says, and steps forward, reaching out for Willa. Willa babbles, suddenly happy as a clam, and lurches toward her angry bull of an uncle. Traitor, Jess thinks. "Wow, okay. Hi there. Willa, is that your name? Hi, Willa."

Willa reaches up and punches him in the nose.

April laughs out loud, and Jess crosses his arms. "She likes you," he says.

"Of course you're Jess' kid," Luke says, scowling at her. Willa just babbles some more, charmed all to hell, because of course. Of course. "Listen, no punching, okay? Punching's bad. Just because your dad does it for fun doesn't mean you follow in his footsteps."

"I haven't punched anyone in," Jess says, and stops to think about it, "six months. At least six months."

"I'm so proud of you," Luke drawls, but his heart clearly isn't in it. Willa is babbling still, squeaking and wiggling around in Luke's arms, flailing her little fists at Luke's face, who is standing there staring like he's just been hit by a train. "Wow. Okay." Luke swallows, and carefully runs one of his hands over Willa's messy head of hair, brushing it back off her face. "Okay."

"She's," Jess says, and has to stop to clear her throat, "yeah. She's almost eight months old. We've been…"

"Adjusting," April says helpfully. "They've been adjusting, probably, right Jess?"

"Sure," Jess says.

"Okay," Luke says, still staring at Willa. Willa, to her credit, seems nonplussed, and starts chewing on the collar of her shirt.

"I was going to tell you," Jess says.

"Okay," says Luke.

"I was," Jess insists. He looks at Willa instead of Luke, who keeps swiveling her head back and forth between everyone, making faces and slobbering all over her clothes. "It's been - "

"I could have helped," Luke interrupts. "I would have."

"I didn't want help," Jess says, willing himself to say it plainly, without irony or derision. "Luke, I needed to do it without help."

Luke is silent for another long moment, touching Willa's hair again. He adjusts her slightly, and carefully pulls her shirt out of her mouth. "Okay," he says.

His face is still tight, and Jess sighs. "I've only known about her for four months," he confesses, and both April and Luke's expressions shift, almost in tandem, to something a little less smug, something that looks uncomfortably close to pity. "I've had her for about two."

"Her mom's not in the picture, huh?" Luke asks, clearly trying very hard to sound neutral, and failing spectacularly as usual.

Jess winces, and rubs the back of his neck. "She's married," he says, and April chokes on a burst of laughter.

Luke rolls his eyes, even more dramatically than April had, if even possible. "Of course she is," he says.


	3. Chapter 3

Jess still has some of Mari's poems, pressed in the back of a journal that nobody knows about. She was good, always has been good, still is good, probably, not that Jess wants to know for sure. Chris told him that she got picked up by a publishing house in Canada, which is apparently where she lives now. Jess doesn't care. He doesn't.

"You should've told me sooner, man," Chris says, lying on his stomach in front of Willa's playpen. He's got his mp3 player out, playing but turned down, on a mission to indoctrinate Jess' kid into liking prog rock. Willa usually reacts by trying to chew on the headphones. "I wouldn't have made you handle her press if I'd known."

"You were busy," Jess says.

"Not that busy," Chris says. Willa throws her stuffed owl on the ground and Chris patiently picks it back up again for her. "I can't believe she'd do something like this. It's fuckin' wild."

"She's married, what'd you expect her to do?"

"Maybe not this," Chris says.

"I'm fine," Jess says.

"Sure you are," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "Not like you were in love with her or anything. Jesus."

Jess seriously wasn't. "Quit cursing in front of my kid."

"Oh, please," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "You use 'fuck' as a pause filler, Jess. Make it easy on yourself and don't try to be that kind of dad."

Jess sighs, and throws aside the pile of copy he's currently not editing. "Fine. I didn't want to get you involved, okay? That's the truth. You had enough on your plate and it was my problem."

"No, that's your problem," Chris says, "right there. Your heroic flaw, in three sentences."

"Fuck off," Jess says.

"I'm serious. I'm your friend, man. We're in business together. If nothing else, I deserved to know that you were messing around with one of our authors."

Jess winces. "Well, there's a point," he concedes.

"Not to mention the whole baby thing," Chris finishes nonchalantly, and smiles as he picks up Willa's stuffed owl for her one more time. "She's gorgeous, though. Honestly."

"I know," Jess says. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Another truth.

"She just gave you full custody," Chris says searchingly. "Just like that."

"She put her husband's name on the birth certificate," Jess says, grinding the words out as evenly as he can. "It's a whole…" he waves a hand. "I gotta go to court for it. But yeah, she wants me to have her."

"She let you name her," Chris says. "She let you name her, but she told you the baby was his?"

"I didn't name her, I just, I suggested the name, and Mari - " Jess shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know, okay?"

"That's so fucked up, man," Chris says. "That's just, that's so fucked up."

"I know," Jess says.

"She's just gonna - she's just gonna walk away. Just like that."

"She's in love with her fucking husband, okay," Jess snaps. "Can we not - "

Willa starts to cry, annoyed that Chris has fallen down on the picking-up-the-owl job. Chris startles, and looks up at Jess with wide, terrified eyes.

"You're such a candy-ass," Jess grouses, and rises from the desk to come pick her up.

"I didn't mean to make her upset!" Chris scoots up on his knees. "I'm bad with kids."

"She's not upset, she just doesn't like you," Jess says, bouncing her. "C'mon Willa, you're freaking Chris out. You're fine, you're good. That's it." Willa calms down almost abruptly, rubbing her face in Jess' shirt. "Such a princess, yeah? I'll tell you what."

Chris hands him the owl, still looking mildly freaked out. "This is so weird," he says. "You being a dad, doing dad stuff. There's child locks on your fucking fridge, man."

"Luke did that," Jess says, rolling his eyes. "They put all kinds of plastic shit on everything. I can't use my own power outlets."

Chris just shakes his head, incredulous. "She's really," he says, pausing. "Yeah. She's real."

"Yeah," Jess says, rubbing Willa's back. She tugs weakly at his collar, drooling on his arm.

"I'm sorry about Mari."

"It's fine," Jess says.

"Sure," Chris says, nodding. "I'm still sorry."

She used to sit right there where Chris is sitting, cross legged on the floor with a glass of wine in her hand. Jess remembers giving her shit about her toenails, which were painted a glittery pink. She wrote him poems on the backs of napkins, and hid them all over the apartment so he wouldn't find them until after she was gone. It was a mistake, such a mistake. She didn't cry, the day Jess came to pick up Willa. She didn't even look at the baby, she only looked at Jess.

"Her husband threatened to sue me," Jess says, and Chris laughs, shaking his head.

"Fuck that guy," Chris says. "Never liked him."

"They had some nanny taking care of her," Jess tells him. "She cried all the time, man. Every time I was there, she was always crying. I never once saw Mari pick her up or, fuck, do anything."

"I'm sorry," Chris says again, somberly. Willa makes a soft noise against Jess' neck, and Jess realizes how tight he's holding her. He makes himself loosen his grip.

"It's fine," he says.

Chris stands up, shaking the owl gently at Willa, who blinks at him disinterestedly. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, you guys'll be fine."

Jess bounces a little, just enough to shake Willa out of her sleepy stupor. "No naps," he tells her sternly. "We're sleeping through the night tonight."

Willa gives a loud, dismissive cry, her opinion on that bit of wishful thinking very clear.

"Hey," Chris says, grinning. "Can I be the godfather?"

"Fuck no," Jess says.


	4. Chapter 4

Four-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon, Jess' phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello, Mr. Mariano, this is Wayne Jiggerson of Philadelphia Central Gas Company. I need to know how many people are living in your apartment for some very important safety procedures that we unfortunately neglected to perform when you moved in."

Jess tugs the phone away from his ear to stare at it. Nope, still real. "What?"

"I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, sir," says the voice, which sounds like a cross between Joan Rivers and a muppet, "but it's just a quick check, nothing more than that, just need to know how many persons are inhabiting - "

Jess hangs up, and goes back to work.

Three days later, another phone call.

"Hello, Mr., eh, Jess Marciano? Is that right?" Jess pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have here an order for a child's birthday cake and I just want to double check the address. Is that right? Do you have a child?"

"I didn't order any cake," he says.

"Well, maybe it was a gift," says the voice, which seems to be making an attempt at a Jersey accent. It is not all that successful. "If you're a new father, well, friends and family often like to surprise them with - haha, oh, silly me, look at me ruining the surprise. That is if you are a father, are you a father, Mr. Marciano?"

Jess hangs up.

Two days later. "Is this Jess Mariano's phone?" A Brooklyn accent, this time. "Yeah, right, I'm a bookie, and he owes me money. But I'm a family man first and foremost, you understand, and I respect men who stand up and do the right thing, and I heard a rumor that he had a kid so if that's true then bada bing, bada boom, I'll be inclined to be forgiving, if you know what I mean."

"For fuck's sake, Lane, I know it's you," Jess says.

"Whaaaat? Who the hell is Lane? I don't know any Lane."

Jess hangs up.

Another two days. "Yes, hello, Mr. Mariano, this is Mrs. Beatrice Longbottom from the U.S. Census Bureau - "

"Don't you have a job?" Jess asks.

"Why yes, I work for the U.S. Census Bureau! I'm just doing a quick survey to gather some, eh, preliminary data in anticipation of the upcoming - "

"Put Rory on the phone," Jess says.

"Who's Rory? I'm Mrs. Longbottom," Lane says, a little too quickly.

"Put Rory on the phone or I'm hanging up and blocking your number."

"That's not even possible, I checked!" Lane cries, and then some sort of scuffle ensues, involving lots of rustling noises and a few outraged cries. Jess sighs, and closes his laptop.

"Hi," Rory says sheepishly, after a few more scuffles. Jess can hear a distant door slamming, on her side of the phone. "Uh. So, hey. Long time no talk. Heh."

"You could've just asked," Jess says.

"Well, I didn't want to overstep any boundaries," Rory says anxiously.

"So you decided to prank call me?"

"It was Lane's idea!" Rory exclaims. "Granted, not a very well thought out one, but, um, you know Lane. Part of her charm." She laughs nervously.

"Okay, well you have me on the phone now. So, ask."

"Ask what?" Rory says, ludicrously.

"Rory."

"What?"

"Rory."

"Don't do this to me, oh my God, you're such a jerk," Rory says, and sighs loudly. "Okay. Jess. Buddy. Old friend - "

"Christ," Jess mutters.

"Do you…possibly…have any news that you'd like to…share? With me?"

"I can't think of anything in particular," Jess says.

Rory yells in wordless outrage. "Jess!"

"I mean, not anything that's anybody's business, anyway."

"I am your stepcousin!" Rory exclaims. "Sort of! It is totally my business, and you told April!"

Jess smirks. "Which one is April again?"

"I'm hanging up!"

"Okay, okay," Jess says, laughing. "Okay, so - "

"So," Rory says eagerly, "so. So there's a - "

" - kid, yes there's a kid," Jess says, and Rory squeaks. "Her name is Willa."

"Oh my God, oh my God," Rory says, "you have a kid? You have a kid. A daughter. You have a daughter."

Jess grins. "Yeah."

"And you named her after Willa Cather!" Rory says gleefully. "Of course you did. Of course you did! Oh, Willa Mariano. What a name. Oh my God."

"It's a good name, I thought."

"Such a good name. Oh, God, is she cute? She's probably so cute. Luke didn't have any pictures but granted he kicked me out pretty fast - "

"I can send you pictures," Jess says.

"You better send me pictures! Oh my God, Jess. Jess." Rory's voice goes hushed with amazement. "You have a daughter, Jess. You're a dad."

"Yes," Jess says, with a conviction that is familiar to him now. "Yes, I am."

"I'm so proud of you," Rory says, which would sound condescending and awful coming from literally anyone else. But Rory has always been different. Rory has always meant it in a way that Jess could never be anything but grateful for.

"Thanks," Jess says.

"Tell me about her," Rory demands, and Jess settles back into his chair. "Luke said her mom was married?"

"Yeah," Jess says. "And a poet."

"How very Henry Miller of you," Rory says.

Jess laughs out loud. "Well, everyone needs a role model."


	5. Chapter 5

Lorelai Gilmore's porch is a location that will forever be frozen in the emotional landscape of Jess' memories, a snapshot of being cold and angry and hopeful and hopeless, always waiting on the wrong side of the door from where he wanted to be. It's always winter, somehow, in Stars Hollow. Jess can't remember the last time he was here and felt warm.

"Here," says Lorelai, stepping out in her socks, holding his jacket. "Don't shoot! I come bearing warmth."

Jess takes it, a little less gratefully than he should, maybe. "You're one to talk," he says, "where are your shoes?"

"You know, I looked and looked and looked and all I could find were Luke's big ugly tan boots," Lorelai says. She's got the blanket from the couch wrapped around her shoulders, but she doesn't seem particularly cold. "I'm pretty sure he loves those more than he loves me, so I erred on the side of caution."

Jess doesn't know what to say; he could always come up with something around Rory, but Lorelai is different. "Right."

Worse, she looks kind of pitying, in a way that just fucking grates. "I won't ask you to come back inside, but do you want anything? I could make coffee or something…else, warm, maybe. I have some Swiss Miss, possibly."

"I'm fine," Jess says.

Lorelai bites her bottom lip, and Jess bites back something mean. He never should have come.

"Is she okay?" he asks.

"She's," Lorelai says, and falters. "Well, no."

Jess grinds the back of his head against one of the wooden beams, his heart in his feet.

"Luke's with her. She just needs some time to calm down."

"You think I was too harsh," Jess says roughly.

"Hey, buddy, I am very much the pot in this situation," Lorelai says. "Or the black kettle, or - one of the two. The point is: very little room for me to judge blowups with moms at the dinner table. Has Luke told you about the tofurkey incident of '07? That was way worse."

"What the hell is tofurkey?" Jess asks.

"Thank you!" Lorelai says, and throws up her hands, which answers absolutely nothing, as usual. "Look, it was a rough night. She was…her feelings were hurt, about you not bringing Willa. Things got said, you know."

"I know you think it's selfish," Jess says. "Keeping her away."

"Well, okay," Lorelai says, frowning, and Jess shakes his head, cutting her off.

"I meant, all of you. General you."

"General us, maybe, but general me, no," Lorelai says slowly. "Jess, she's your kid. Believe me when I say I get it. And I mean, I get it, okay. You have no idea how much I get it."

"It drives me just," Jess says, rubbing his forehead, "crazy. It drives me crazy, how she thinks being a good mom now means she was a good mom then. That doing right by Doula erases how she fucked up with me. You know? Fuck."

"Yeah," Lorelai says quietly.

"I can't," Jess says, thinking about Willa and missing her so much his chest aches, "I can't do that to her. I won't. She was the one who walked away, she was the one who kicked me out. And now she's finally got her shit together, finally, she thinks she gets an all-access pass to my life again? When she couldn't even bring herself to care, before? How does that make sense?" Jess punches the beam, lightly, but still hard enough to sting. "Sorry."

"She's trying," Lorelai says tentatively. "She really is. And she just - she hasn't even met Willa, Jess."

"She doesn't get to meet her until I let her meet her," Jess says, knowing it's unfair, knowing it's harsh. Not particularly caring.

"Okay," Lorelai says slowly. "Okay. Yeah."

"You don't even like me," Jess says, laughing. "What am I doing? Jesus."

"I like you fine," Lorelai says, just cheerfully enough that it sounds ironic, and Jess laughs again. "You always bring wine when you come to dinner, which goes a lot farther with me than you think."

"Don't lie to me right now," Jess says. "I'm emotionally fragile, and I might punch somebody."

"I got a few people who could use punching," Lorelai says, smiling crookedly. Jess shakes his head, incredulous. "Look - this is gonna sound kind of condescending, but I've got a pretty specific category of life that I'm an expert on, and I sort of jump at the chance to impart my knowledge. Although you'd think that it wouldn't be so rare, what with these crazy modern times, but hey, what can you do. Anyway, my point - can I give you some advice?"

Jess snorts. "Sure. Why not."

"Okay, so, there's only so much time in the day," Lorelai says, "right? You have work, you have kid time, you have sleeping and then maybe, maybe like twenty minutes before bed where you can read a magazine or watch an episode of Golden Girls or something else that makes you feel like a normal human. You've only got so much patience each day, and so much…I don't know, energy to deal with things, and like ninety percent of it goes to your daughter, and so you get…harsh. It's like emotional triage, you let other things slide, and fall apart, and drift away, because you just don't have the space to deal with them or keep them up. And it's unfair and it sucks and it hurts people, but it doesn't matter, because they're not as important as your daughter. Nothing is."

Jess doesn't reply, keeps his eyes on the distant treeline, the branches swaying in the breeze.

"Your mom means well, but it doesn't really matter how much she loves you or how hard she's trying," Lorelai says, with that cutthroat voice that used to make Jess feel about two inches tall, used to make him so pissed off and scared that he wanted to run straight out of town and keep running until he just collapsed. "Because you prioritize based on what you can deal with without sacrificing anything of Willa's, and if your mom isn't one of those things, then she just has to deal with it. That's the way it is."

"Is that what you did?" Jess can't help but ask.

"Yeah," Lorelai says, and her voice wobbles, just a little. "Yeah, that's what I did." She sighs. "You'll have time to make it right, maybe. If you can. But, like," Lorelai pauses, and huffs loudly, in frustration, or something else. "It's sacrifice. That's what it is. Sometimes the sacrifice is yours, and sometimes it's other people's. Like your mom. And it might not make you a very nice person, or a particularly good son, but it's gonna make you one hell of a dad."

Jess keeps rubbing his chin, staring at the trees. Lorelai shifts restlessly next to him, the blanket rasping loudly against her shirt.

"Okay," he says. "Yeah."

"Luke would disagree with me," Lorelai says, kind of sadly. "But he's, you know."

"Luke," Jess says.

"Right," Lorelai says fondly.

Liz has never sacrificed anything for Jess, in his entire life, and he knows that for a fact. He hates that it still hurts, he hates that he can barely look at his own sister without feeling the resentment climb up this back of his throat like bile. She's the second chance, Jess knows, and he's happy for them, in a way he didn't know he was capable of feeling for his mother, but it doesn't change how it all went down when he was a kid, it doesn't change twenty years of winter. Jess doesn't think it's unreasonable to expect to be in charge of it now, he doesn't think it's hurtful to want to be in control. She didn't want to be his mother back then, and if she wants to do it now, then he's the one who gets to decide when and where and how often. She owes him that much, at least.

"Thanks for the coat," Jess says.

"You're welcome," Lorelai replies, with a friendliness that never would have been possible five years ago. Even two years ago, probably. "I don't blame you if you wanna take off, but let us know, okay? Everyone will worry otherwise."

"I'm gonna, uh," Jess says, "I've got a buddy in Hartford, I think I'm gonna crash there tonight. I'll come back in the morning, for the breakfast thing. If it's not…"

"Liz and T.J. won't be there," Lorelai assures him. "And if April finds out you were in town and didn't see her, she'll kill ya dead."

"Right."

Lorelai smiles. "Drive safe," she says.

"Thanks," Jess says.


	6. Chapter 6

Willa's first birthday present is a court order awarding Jess full parental rights and custody, which Chris has framed and hung next to the register at the shop. When people ask about it, Jess is told that he makes them buy three books before they get to hear the story.

"So yeah, my novel's selling great, by the way," Jess says.

"So write another one," Rory replies. The phone line always echoes when she calls nowadays; Jess pictures her on airplanes and Jeeps and taxi cabs, always in the middle of something, on her way to somewhere else. "It's been a few years. Time for the sophomore effort."

"When exactly do you think I have time to write? I do my real job in-between diapers as it is."

"Diapers," Rory repeats, with unfettered glee. Jess rolls his eyes. "Sorry, I just - I had to take a moment with that mental image, there. No, come on, are you telling me you don't already have something written? How many novels are sitting in your desk drawer right now? Be honest."

"Not that many," Jess grumbles, reaching down with one foot to gently steer Willa away from the air vent. She squawks at him, and crawls back over towards the television, where she proceeds to start hammering her toys together violently. "None of them are good, anyway. That's why they're in the drawer."

"You're too harsh on yourself. Just edit one of them and get it out there, you need to keep your reputation fresh."

"It's just hilarious how much writing advice I get from my friends who don't write," Jess says. "Really, I appreciate it."

"Hey," Rory says, "I know stuff. About writing."

"You know stuff about books, and journalism, neither of which are at all the same thing," Jess says, and Willa yells again, babbling at the top of her lungs. He likes to think this means she's agreeing with him.

"Oh my God," Rory says, laughing, "what are you doing to her?"

"She's got anger in her heart," Jess says, crouching down next to Willa, who promptly hands him one of her rubber ducks. "Thanks, baby. You wanna talk to Rory real quick?"

Willa blows a raspberry, which Jess takes a yes. He holds the phone up to her ear, and Willa looks at him like he's lost his mind, right up until Rory starts talking, at which point her eyes go as wide as Jess has ever seen them.

"Magic," Jess says, trying not to laugh, since Willa usually takes that personally. After a few seconds, the novelty apparently fades, because the amazement fades from her face and she makes a grab for the phone, clearly aiming to stick it in her mouth. "Okay, okay. Enough talking time."

Rory's laughing when he gets the phone back up to his ear, the kind of laughter that Willa often inspires in people. There's some snorting going on. "I hope you're taking enough pictures," she says.

"Luke takes a couple hundred every time he visits," Jess tells her. "April's doing some kind of collage thing for Willa's birthday."

"Oh, did you get my package yet? You can send it back if it doesn't fit," Rory says. "But uh, apparently there's some kind of biological imperative where women of a certain age start to become fascinated with baby clothes, because I spent like four hours picking all that out. Maybe they had pheromones pumping through the air vents in there or something."

"Rory, if I didn't have people buying me baby clothes, Willa would be still be wearing whatever I could find in Hartfield's closet every day."

"She looked very cute in that sailor outfit," Rory assures him.

"I'm surprised you're not sending her books."

"I figured you had that covered," Rory says. "Also, uh. I may have bought some to keep…on reserve. For when she's older."

"Of course you did."

"Is it presumptuous of me to give her Cather? Because I don't want to step on your toes or anything, but I found a first edition of Song of the Lark, and, okay, it was a little expensive but not that expensive, and I would've bought it anyway, so - "

"Don't give my kid a first edition, are you kidding, she'll just try to eat it," Jess says. "You keep it. Maybe when she's older, but she might not even like books, you know."

"You shut your mouth," Rory says, scandalized.

"Chris gave her a copy of Goodnight Moon and she tore out half the pages and then stuffed them between the couch cushions."

"Well, Goodnight Moon is a little overrated," Rory says. "Just you wait, she'll be a reader. She's smart, and smart kids read."

Jess snorts. "Not all of them."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Rory says, but she's laughing again, light and easy. Jess settles down onto the couch, one eye on Willa, and enjoys the moment. "Anyway, growing up with you will certainly put her on the right path, as far as taste. Maybe you could bring Luke out for a few months, I'm sure he'd be happy to come stay for awhile. That way you could get some writing done."

"You're very insistent about this."

"Well it's not very often that you personally know one of your favorite authors, so you can't blame me for taking advantage."

That makes Jess pause, ducking his head on instinct against the compliment. "Yeah, well."

Rory laughs again. "You know you want to write another one. I can tell, I can hear it in your voice. You've got another story in you."

Jess doesn't deny it. "Maybe," he concedes.

"I'm gonna talk to Luke about it if you don't," Rory threatens.

"Fine, Jesus Christ," Jess says. "I'll discuss the idea with him. Maybe."

"Good," Rory says. "I'll write something about you for the column, if you publish another novel."

"No, you won't," Jess says, laughing.

"I will too!"

"Rory, you write about politics."

"So write about politics then," Rory says.

"Okay," Jess says, grinning at Willa, who is babbling happily at her row of banged up, mutilated toys. "I'll get right on that."


	7. Chapter 7

Jess spends a long, frustrating day in Manhattan author-wrangling, and when he gets home his cousin is sitting at Hartfield's table, playing poker and looking sheepish.

"Hi, Jess," she says, already wincing.

"Oh, hell no," Jess says, and Willa, ensconced happily in April's lap, laughs and claps her hands, like she always does when Jess gets angry. "Don't tell me you stole Luke's truck. Please, please don't tell me that."

"No," April says stubbornly, lifting her chin. "I…stole Taylor's."

"Oh my God," says Jess.

"Well, he never uses it! It just sits outside the town hall gathering dust!"

"You didn't tell me that," Hartfield says accusingly. "Jess, she didn't tell me that."

"You would've called my dad," April says reasonably.

"I'm gonna call your dad," Jess says. "Come on. Up."

"Everyone knows where the keys are," April grumbles, hitching Willa up into her arms and rising to sullenly follow Jess out of the room. "The football players steal it all the time. They have a running bet on who can keep it the longest without him noticing."

"Thanks for watching Willa, Hartfield," Jess says. Hartfield nods, clamping down on a grin that Jess really doesn't appreciate. "Sorry for the teenager."

"You should be, she's been kicking my ass," Hartfield says, gathering up the cards.

"You owe me thirty bucks, old lady, don't forget," April says.

"She'll put it towards your bail fund," Jess says, and snatches Willa right out of April's arms. "Come on. March."

"Look, please, please don't call my dad," April pleads, stomping up the stairs just a hair too close behind Jess' heels for anybody's comfort. "I just want to stay the night and then I'll go home in the morning, okay? I just needed some space."

"You realize you're asking me to be an accessory here," Jess says, trying to juggle a squirming Willa while digging his apartment keys out of his jacket. April huffs and reaches over to snatch Willa back, making a face and jiggling her up and down to make her laugh. Jess scowls at them both. "I can't believe you stole Taylor's car."

"You said I could come over whenever!" April cries.

"With permission," Jess says. "I didn't mean 'commit grand theft auto and then run away from home.'"

"You ran away from home all the time," April says resentfully. "Luke says you did it at least six times."

Calling him 'Luke,' not a great sign, Jess thinks resignedly. There's no way he's getting anywhere close to a full night's sleep tonight. "Okay, at least three of those were false alarms due to his inability to check his own answering machine," Jess says, "and the rest of them were, you know. Not a big deal."

"Did you really drop out of school to work full time at Wal-Mart?" April asks.

Jess finally shoulders through the front door, rolling his eyes. "None of your business," he says.

"Oh my God," April says, "I should've known that was true, that is just a stupidly, nearsightedly practical enough thing that you'd do."

"Give me my kid and go sit down," Jess says, and April obediently hands Willa over, scowling all the while. "I'm calling him."

"Jess!" April practically stomps her foot. "Come on. Please?"

"April, look at me," Jess says, pitching his voice to sound serious, and April looks up, startled. "Letting him think you're not safe when you are is cruel. I'm calling him."

April opens her mouth, then closes it again. Her jawline tightens, and her shoulders hunch. "I'm not going home until tomorrow," she threatens.

"I'll negotiate that," Jess says, pulling Willa close, beneath his chin. She starts to fuss, probably anxious for dinner, and Jess sighs. "Just - just go sit down."

April stares at him for another moment, then turns on her heel and strides off towards the living room. Something slams angrily, and Jess winces as Willa starts to whine.

"You know, I was under the impression that I only have one kid," Jess tells her. Willa's whine hitches, right on the edge of turning into a sob. "Fine, fine. Keep your pants on."

* * *

"She's there?" Luke says, more of a demand for confirmation than a question. "Put her on the phone."

In the living room, Jess' TV is blasting MTV so loudly the pictures on the hallway wall are rattling along to the bassline. He could make an issue of it, but Willa seems to be enjoying it, wiggling along as she eats her dinner. And it's not like Jess has much leg to stand on, when it comes to loud music.

"Yeah," Jess says, "I don't think she wants to talk to you right now."

"Put her on anyway."

"Luke, you know if I take the phone in there she'll just refuse to talk to you."

"Well figure it out!" Luke says. "She can't do this, she can't just take off and not tell anybody."

"I know."

"It's irresponsible and selfish and her mother - "

"Could threaten your custody agreement," Jess says.

"That's - " Luke stammers for a second. "Not what I was thinking about."

"Still true," Jess says.

Luke sighs. "She's okay? Not injured or bleeding?"

"She's fine," Jess says. "Car's fine, too. She even filled up the tank."

"I don't give a crap about the stupid car," Luke says. "Taylor never even drives the damn thing. I keep telling him that leaving it parked for weeks at a time will kill the battery." He pauses. "Don't tell April that, though."

Jess smiles at Willa, who raises one of her hands to offer him a handful of toddler-sized chicken pieces. He takes one politely. "She's just angry," he says, and tosses it in the trashcan when she's not looking. "What'd you guys fight about, anyway?"

"She's - it's complicated," Luke says. "She's been having issues at school, and her mom and I...it's complicated."

"Right," Jess says thinly.

"Do me a favor and try not to make her hate me anymore than she already does," Luke says, in a tone of voice that tells Jess he actually really means that, despite his efforts to make it a joke. "I'll drive up tomorrow and pick her up. I can't leave until Caesar gets in for his shift though, but - she can stay at your place while you're at work, right?"

"She can watch Willa for me," Jess says, and the girl in question makes a happy noise at the sound of her own name. "Don't worry about it."

"Right," Luke says ironically.

"And I couldn't make her hate you if I tried," Jess says, trying for supportive.

"Right," Luke says again, and snorts.

* * *

April spends the bulk of the evening holed up in Jess' living room with the television, and thinking back to his own sullen teenage days, Jess leaves her to it. The thing about being young and angry is - you don't know that you're young and angry, all you know is that your head hurts and your hands shake and the whole world feels like an obstacle course made of knives, just waiting to cut you up if you make the wrong move. It doesn't really matter if you're the one in the wrong, because that doesn't change how you feel. Jess refuses, with every ounce of his being, to be one of those adults who try to reason with kids with the kind of logic they're not equipped to understand yet. That never did anything but make it worse, when it was him.

Willa goes down with relative ease, probably due to the general state of chaos of the entire night. It's a weird thing about this kid, that Jess has learned through trial and error: there's nothing that pisses her off more than lullabies, and quiet, and just - soothing things in general. Luke once tried to put on one of those Baby Genius sleepytime DVDs, and according to Lorelai, Willa screamed at them both like she was being murdered for the better part of three hours. ("Just out of spite," Lorelai had said. "She finally calmed down when Luke broke the disc right in front of her, but she was still kind of resentful, I could tell.")

Disaster child, Jess thinks fondly, brushing his knuckles down the apple of her cheek. Willa sighs in contentment, and strangles her owl a little tighter, drifting easily into sleep.

The living room is quiet now, probably as a courtesy to Willa, but Jess still leaves it untouched, setting up in the kitchen with the slush pile that never seems to get any smaller, no matter how much of it he manages to get through. He keeps an eye on the clock, and watches it spin around twice before April finally breaches the doorway, shuffling her feet and grinding her teeth.

"Hey, so," April says, "do I get fed, or do I have to forage for berries outside?"

"You're welcome to give it a shot, I think there's a tree a few blocks down," Jess says. "It might be quicker to make a TV dinner, though."

"I'm vegan," April tells him.

Jess frowns. "Since when?"

"About two weeks ago," April says.

"Okay," Jess says slowly. "I have...pasta."

April wrinkles her nose. "Is it made with eggs?"

Jess pauses. "Why don't we order something," he says, and reaches for his laptop.

His phone beeps with another call twice while he's tracking her down a salad, and by the time he hangs up April is already scowling at her own cell phone and watching him warily. Jess pointedly tosses his own cell phone aside, just as April cuts hers off mid-ring.

"My mom," she tells him, and sits down at the table. "I don't wanna talk about it," she finishes, with a belligerent twist in her voice.

"I didn't ask," Jess says.

April makes a face, and reaches for Jess' discarded pile of slush. "What are these, stories? Are all of these yours?"

Jess snorts before he can stop himself. "No," he says. "It's my chunk of the slush pile from work."

"What's a slush pile?"

"It's the unsolicited submissions from writers who don't have agents," Jess says. April frowns, leafing through the stack. "Everything gets read by at least one of us. We split it up every week and then take the ones we like to everyone else."

April pauses at one of them, a small frown tugging at her mouth as she reads. "This is," she says.

"Yeah."

"They misspelled - "

"Yeah," Jess says, and pulls out the only 'yes' he's found so far in this bunch, a weird Tom Robbins esque piece that would fit well in the surrealism collection that Matthew's curating. "Most of them are like that. Read this one, though."

April takes it eagerly, and Jess can practically spot the second she gets interested; her shoulders straighten and her eyes narrow behind her glasses. Jess idly clicks back and forth between Word files as she reads, trying to watch without making it obvious.

"Okay," April says, when she's finished. "I don't think I get it, but...I think I can see it."

"The point isn't to get it," Jess says, taking the paper back and folding it carefully back into his laptop bag. "At least, this writer's point isn't. There's generally only one barometer that you can always judge writing with, across genre and style and whatever else, and that's the writer's command of their own story, right? How well they pull off whatever it is they're trying to pull off. If you can read it, and understand what they're trying to do, and then see the level of skill they employed to do it - that's the important part. Stuff like innovation and creativity and plot and language - all of that is kind of window dressing, at the end of the day."

"So what you're really saying is, you can tell whether they're good or not," April translates.

"I mean," Jess says, and rolls his eyes. "Sort of."

"That's pretty much what you just said, only more complicated."

"Yeah, but it sounded better."

April smirks, a disconcerting experience for Jess, who used to see that very same look on Luke's face every day between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. "How often do you find good stuff like this, anyway?"

"Uh," Jess says, "sometimes. Maybe more often than you'd think, but it's not...common. There's usually a reason someone doesn't have an agent."

"Do you have an agent?"

"Chris is my agent," Jess says. "So I'm not sure that counts, since I'm his only client. Also, he sucks at it."

"I bet Rory has a few things to say about that."

"She says several dozen things about it every time I speak to her."

April smirks again. "I tried to read your book," she offers. "I didn't really get that either."

"But you could see it?"

"Yeah," she admits, and pulls out another piece from the pile, flipping through it lazily. "You're probably used to that, huh," she says, her eyes on the pages. "People not getting what you're going for."

"I'm used to not getting things in general," Jess tells her, without thinking very hard about it. It's the only way he's ever found to actually say things, instead of talking around them. "I try not to let it break my heart anymore."

April buries her face in the paper, her hair falling over her shoulder to cover her face. She suddenly looks very small.

"When I was," Jess says, and falters slightly. He has a very strong urge to shut the fuck up, suddenly, and with the equally strong instinct to keep talking until she starts talking too, it's a hell of a fight inside his head. "I did drop out of school to work at Wal Mart."

April turns a page, and doesn't say anything.

"I was miserable when I was your age, you know," Jess says. "I hated Stars Hollow. I mean, I loathed it. The only good thing about living there was Rory, and the whole time I was with her I was fucking it up, sometimes on purpose. Because I hated myself too, was the thing, but I didn't know that, at the time." He clears his throat. "The only thing I did know for sure is that I had to leave, I needed to leave. So I dropped out, and I got another job. I bought a car, and started putting money away. I didn't plan to just take off like I did, that was...well, I fucked that up too. It was a whole other thing. But I did plan to leave. And I never wanted anybody's help, because I thought it'd be...admitting something, or opening myself up to something I didn't want. I thought it'd be like losing the battle to win the war, and I didn't want to do it that way. I wanted the whole damn victory to myself."

"I don't mind Stars Hollow," April says quietly.

"It's not a horrible place or anything," Jess admits. "Just, not the place for me. You fit in there, though. They like you."

April goes silent again, her fingers crumpling the edges of the paper.

"It had more to do with me than it did with them," Jess says. He hasn't talked about this out loud in awhile, he realizes distantly, since Mari, if he's remembering right. That was the thing about Mari, she was excellent at getting your secrets, especially the painful ones, the ones you didn't want to admit, even to yourself. It made her a great writer, and a fucking horrible lover. "My mom kicked me out, and I knew that Luke said no at first, to taking me in. They argued about it a lot, and I overheard some of it. I felt like - I resented it from the beginning. And I hated him a little, for that. He didn't deserve it, but." He shrugs.

"I didn't know that," April says.

"She said it was because she wanted him to straighten me out," Jess tells her, "but it wasn't even about that. She had a new boyfriend, was the thing." The memories are still sharp-edged, even after all these years. He'd spent as much time as possible out of the apartment back then, but he still had to sleep and change his clothes and shower, and that was always, always when Liz would have those loud phone conversations, saying exactly the things that he shouldn't have had to listen to. It was like she wanted him to overhear. "And Luke tried, but he didn't know what the hell to do with me, or how to talk to me. He does a lot better now, but back then, it was like - he'd go back and forth between extremes all the time. He either didn't give a crap what I did, or he cared so much he'd treat me like a five year old. It drove me crazy."

"He's so overbearing!" April erupts, her chin jerking up. Jess leans back to listen, triumphant. "That's exactly it, he's just - one second he's cool, Casual Dad, and he can be so...nice and earnest and likeable, and then the next it's like he turns into 1950's Dad, who blows his lid whenever I wear a skirt or sit within six feet of a boy."

"He's got," Jess says, struggling for the right word, "issues with...I don't know, protectiveness. He doesn't know how to...leverage his instincts against his common sense."

"I don't even like boys!" April exclaims, and then her cheeks go dusty red, and she drops the paper. "Um."

"Well, that must make it suck even more then," Jess says, deliberately casual. April bites her lip, and Jess looks away, giving her a moment to get herself together. "I can't imagine he's going to handle that very smoothly when he finds out."

"Yeah, um," April says, "yeah. I don't." She rubs at her face, and her hand is shaking visibly. "I haven't told my mom either, or anything. I'm still, um. Working it out and everything."

"I bet that's something that takes a while," Jess says, his voice even.

"Yeah," April says.

The buzzer goes off with God-like timing, and Jess taps her arm playfully, something he's done with her a million times. April seems to sag at his touch, and her eyes are wide and scared behind her glasses. "That's probably your salad. There's water and other stuff in the fridge; help yourself."

"O-okay," she says.

Jess has to force himself to turn away, his stomach churning more and more, the farther away he gets. He wouldn't know how to do the hugging comfort thing anyway, even if she wanted that from him, he tells himself. It's not his style. He thinks about Willa, as he pays the delivery kid, and the storm in his stomach turns to ice. It's not his style, but what if it needs to be? What happens when Willa wants to run away? He can't imagine that she won't, at some point. He doesn't want her to get to the point where she actually does it, because just the thought of it makes him sick. He has a feeling he's fucking this up. He hopes he isn't, but Jess is used to not getting things.

April's a bit more composed when he comes back into the kitchen, fussing about with the piles of paper, a bottle of water already open and half empty. She smiles at him wanly and thanks him for the food in a small, but solid, voice.

She fusses some more as Jess sits back down and tries not to watch her, opening the lid and arranging and rearranging her napkin half a dozen times before reaching some internal realization that seems to pacify her. It's a shitty little dinner salad from a hipster pizza place a few miles away, the only restaurant Jess could find that didn't view hardboiled eggs as a compulsory salad ingredient, and Jess had had to buy an order of breadsticks to get to the minimum delivery requirement. April doesn't say anything, though, and stares at it like it's the most fascinating pile of dry spinach she's ever seen.

"April," Jess starts, and she jerks like she's been hit.

"You can't tell anyone," she says.

"No, yeah, I won't," he replies quickly, and watches her sag again, out of relief or something else, he's not sure. "I was just gonna say, I have dressing in the fridge."

"Oh," April says, and blushes. "No, dressing usually has dairy in it. Like buttermilk, or eggs, or other stuff like that."

"What can you eat?"

"Just anything without animal products," April says, forcefully cheerful. "I feel much better. Like, cleaner. More energy!"

"Now I know that's bullshit," Jess says, smirking.

"Shut up," April says back. But she's smiling, just a bit. "I eat a lot of fruit."

"You have to take vitamins, don't you?"

"Just a couple!" April makes a face at him. "Shut up."

"No, I didn't say anything. Sounds like fun."

"Shut up," April says again, and laughs. Jess shrugs exaggeratedly, and turns back to his laptop. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Willa and I had chicken pasta," Jess says. "You know - yummy animal products."

"Stop trying to goad me into being a jerk about it," April complains, her mouth full of spinach. "I'm not one of those annoying vegans. I refuse to be."

"Sure," Jess says.

April does a little harrumph with her shoulders, and eagerly shoves another forkful into her mouth. Jess tries not to feel guilty for not feeding her earlier.

"I give it a month," Jess says.

"I'll take that bet," April says immediately. "I make it more than a month, and you owe me..."

"Careful," Jess warns.

"...fifty bucks?" Jess snorts. "Okay, forty? Is forty good? It's the price of this DVD set I really want."

"What DVD set?"

"Um, Carl Sagan," April says. "The Cosmos show he used to do."

"You are such a nerd," Jess teases, and April sticks out her tongue at him. "I'll buy you the set if you make it more than a month."

"Sweet," April says.

"Starting tomorrow," he adds, and her face falls in outrage. "Hey, come on, it's gotta be fair."

"Fine," April grumbles, around another forkful of salad. "I'm keeping track and I'm gonna hold you to it. I'll tell Rory about it too, so she'll come after you if you go back on it."

"I don't go back on bets," Jess tells her, halfway offended. "I mean, promises, sure. But bets? Bets are sacred."

"Suuuure," April says, grinning.

Jess shakes his head at his laptop, playing it up just to make her laugh again. She doesn't disappoint.

"Thanks," April says, after a moment, in-between impatient forkfuls of salad.

"Don't thank me yet," Jess says. "I have a feeling you'll be singing a different tune after six weeks of no animal products. Or six weeks of Luke complaining about it, maybe."

"That's not what I meant," April says, and taps his arm playfully, an imitation of his earlier action.

"Oh," Jess says. "Well, yeah."

"I'll figure it out," April assures him matter of factly.

"I'm sure you will."

April nods, and chews, and Jess shakes his head, and tries to go back to his reading. She sounds like a cow, is the thing. A loud, teenage cow.

"You and Luke fought about the vegan thing, didn't you?" he asks, after a second.

"He's not nearly as funny as he thinks he is," April says darkly, and stabs her spinach violently.

"Oh my God," Jess says.


	8. Chapter 8

There is some hope, mostly amongst April and Rory, that Willa will be one of those genius babies that go straight from babbling to talking in full sentences and solving complex algebraic equations. Jess doesn't really know how he feels about the possibility of his daughter being good at math.

"If it floats your boat, I mean, great," Jess tells her. "Just, I would prefer you pick something I can help you with."

"Bleegah," Willa says.

"Huh," Jess replies thoughtfully, and hands her another tiny bit of sandwich. Willa smooshes it in one of her hands before eating it; a required step in the lunch process. "No, probably not science either. I liked the theory stuff, but science is just dressed up math, you know."

"Pah," Willa says. "Sha _nah_ wah."

"No, please don't pick history either," Jess says. "Do you know what history majors actually _do?_ It looks all glamorous in the movies but trust me, ninety percent of your day is reading hotel ledgers and tax returns and dental records and shit."

"Ga da da dah?" Willa asks, reaching out one of her hands. Jess gives her another piece of sandwich. "Bab bab bab."

"Bad, right," Jess says, and catches her bottle before it rolls off the dinner tray. "History, math, bad. Pick a creative industry."

"Ahhhh," Willa says. "Bleegah."

"Well, music, sure. That works."

"Ga da da dah?"

"I mean, obviously I _hope_ you'll like writing, but I'm not gonna be one of those stage parents," Jess says. Willa tilts her head at him, picking up her bottle and holding it out in his direction. "Nah, I'm not thirsty."

"Ga da da daaah."

"I dunno, maybe it is genetic. You should ask April about that, she'd probably know. If it is, you're set to be the next Virginia Woolf, I'll tell you what, baby." Willa waves her bottle at him, sending a spray of apple juice across the floor, and Jess winces. "Right, bad example. Jane Austen? Emily Dickinson?"

"Bleegah!" Willa says.

"Emily's brilliant, yeah," Jess says. "Here, try some more of this."

Willa smooshes another sandwich bit and crams it into her mouth. Her cheeks are bulging; Jess suspects she's been storing up for winter.

"You know Grandma wanted me to be a musician," Jess tells her. "She bought me a guitar like, every Christmas. I never learned how to play, though. I used to pawn them for cigarette money." He pauses. "Please don't ever do that."

"Da da?"

"Present," Jess says. Willa points her bottle at him. "Yes ma'am, yes. That's me."

"Da da da," Willa says, cajoling, and Jess leans forward. Willa grabs his nose and whacks him in the cheek with the bottle. "Bleegah!"

"Christ," Jess exclaims, and untangles her fist from his hair as gently as he can. "Okay, fine! Be an accountant, if that's what you really want."

"Da _daah,_ " Willa says, "dada dada!"

"Of course you'd be good at anything, you're clearly very underestimated by your contemporaries," Jess says placatingly. He reaches out and touches her little cheek, giving her the option to pull away, but Willa latches onto his hand with her free one and starts slobbering all over it. In a fond, loving way, Jess thinks. Well, he's pretty sure. "Just promise me one thing, okay," he says, "please, please, _please_ don't ever run away to join the Renaissance Faire."

"Dadadadada," Willa reassures him, "gaah bleegah."

"Thanks," Jess says. "I appreciate you saying that."

"Bleegah," Willa says decisively, and throws her bottle on the ground.

"We gotta work on the manners though," Jess says, and hands her another piece of sandwich.


	9. Chapter 9

So the big news of the summer is, Matthew gets married on a business trip to South Dakota.

"South _Dakota?_ " Chris says, incredulous. "That is the least sexy state. Like, in the entire country. South _Carolina,_ now that's a place to get impulsively married."

"Shut up," Matt whines. He's on speakerphone, so it sounds even shriller than usual.

"Even South _Virginia_ would be better," Chris says.

"That's not a state," Jess says, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye.

"What? No way, you're kidding," Chris says, then pauses. "Oh right, no, it's _West_ Virginia. Shit, Matt, you've got me all flustered!"

"Fuck off," Matthew says. "Wait, is Willa in the room?"

Willa very helpfully leans over from her spot in Chris' lap to shriek directly into the speaker of the phone.

"Hey Willa," Matt replies politely, after she's done. He sounds a little strained. "Sorry about the cursing, honey."

"God, you're such a suck up bitch," Chris says. Willa laughs and claps her hands. "Willa's agreeing with me right now by the way."

"Don't call me a bitch in front of the baby, Chris!"

"Okay, the baby definitely thinks you're a bitch too," Chris says, and bounces his knee so Willa will laugh. "See?"

"Oh my God," Jess says, resisting the urge to slam his face against something hard. "You're both bitches, and if anything is offending my kid it's all this fucking foreplay. Should I leave you alone?"

"No," Chris says, still bouncing, and Willa shrieks with laughter, fisting her hands in his shirt. "Matt, you're making Jess uncomfortable. You see what happens when you get drunk at Holiday Inns? You've wrought folly in Sioux Falls, Matthew."

"Chris is not folly," Matthew says, and Chris stops bouncing, blinking in confusion at the phone. "And I didn't meet her at a Holiday Inn, fuck you."

"Holy shit," Jess says, sitting up straight, "holy shit, Matt, did you marry a girl named _Chris?_ "

Matthew sighs loudly, and Jess bursts out laughing.

"You freak!" Chris exclaims. Willa, excited beyond belief by the chaos, is almost out of breath from her delighted laughter. Jess isn't too far behind her. "You - are you stalking me?"

"No," Matt says, long suffering. "It's a coincidence, Chris. _Christopher!_ There's a lot of Chrises in the world, okay?!"

Jess leans his forehead against the arm of his chair and desperately gasps for breath.

"Her name is _Christine,_ but she goes by Chris, and she's coming back with me because she's starting a new job in New York, and don't even start, okay, because she had that lined up before I even met her. She's _very nice_ and _very smart_ and she listens to _Tom Waits_ and she's _blonde,_ you guys. She's a fucking _Mets fan,_ okay, do _not_ fuck this up for me."

"Okay, what the fuck, hold on, slow down," Chris says, "you met a hot blonde with my name who just happens to be moving to the East Coast, in fucking _Sioux Falls._ "

Jess rubs his face and sits back up, having brought himself mildly under control. "And she's got the same shitty taste as you, on top of all that?"

"Oh, don't fuckin lie, I know you like Tom Waits," Chris says, rolling his eyes.

"You can see why I was willing to overlook the name," Matt says. "Her sister took a bunch of pictures of the wedding, I'll email them to you guys."

"What the fuck," Chris says forlornly. Willa laughs again, bouncing herself on his knee. "This is going to be so fucking confusing. We're gonna have to use last name initials. Like we're in middle school."

"I thought we could just say, like, Girl Chris and Boy Chris."

"Oh, great, that's just super," Chris says. Willa yells, presumably in agreement. "Yeah, I know! Did you hear that, Matt?"

"You're gonna love her, Willa," Matthew says excitedly. "She's a museum docent!"

"Jesus, you're a lunatic," Chris says wonderingly.

"Why'd you get _married,_ dumbass?" Jess asks. "Is dating too boring for you? Wait, she...is an American citizen, right?"

"Yes," Matt says. "Jesus, it's nothing shady, it just - seemed like the thing to do. She didn't have a place to live out here yet, and the commute's not _that_ bad."

Even Willa lets out a dismissive yell at that, and Jess snorts, burying his face in his arm.

"What kind of museum docent?" Chris demands. "She's not a goddamn artist, is she? Matt I swear to God if you married a goddamn modern artist I'm gonna kill you."

"No, she's a science person," Matthew says archly. "The job is at that science museum in Queens. She's like a junior docent or something, she's gonna be like, helping with the kid stuff, I think."

"New York Hall of Science," Jess supplies.

"Lunatic," Chris says, shaking his head. "Does she read? Has she read any of our books? Did you _sell_ her any of our books?"

"She read Jess' book," Matt says, and Jess looks up at that, surprised. "That's how we met, sort of. She was at the conference; her sister works for Meredith. She saw my name tag and came over to ask about him."

Chris looks over at Jess, one eyebrow significantly higher than the other. Jess frowns at him. "What'd you say?"

"That his next novel's gonna be even better," Matthew says. "Then I asked for her number, which worked, obviously. So, you know. Thanks, Jess."

"Jesus," Jess says, and buries his face in his arm again.

"You married a chick with _my_ name, who is also one of _Jess'_ fans?" Chris asks incredulously.

"No, actually, she hated his book, turns out," Matthew says nonchalantly. Jess looks over at the phone in disbelief. "She, uh. She likes Mari's stuff, though. She bought one of the collections."

There's a long, dead silence. Not even Willa makes a sound.

"Great," Jess says. "Can't wait to meet her."

"She's nice!" Matt protests.

"There is no way in _hell_ we are reimbursing you for that fucking hotel room," Chris says.

* * *

"You know," Jess says later, trying to do paperwork with a sleepy Willa dozing on his chest, "Rory's dad's name is Chris."

"Don't try to comfort me right now," Chris says.

"I'm serious. Christopher, uh," Jess says, "I can't remember his last name. Started with an 'H,' I think."

Chris looks up from his laptop with weary, deadened eyes. "You're kidding."

"I knew a Chris in high school, too," Jess continues. "In Brooklyn, I mean, not Stars Hollow. He sold my neighbor meth."

"Come on, man," Chris says.

"When I was in California, I met a girl at a bar named Kristy. She blew me in the alleyway."

"You're a horrible person," Chris says.

"I was thinking of naming my protagonist for the next book Christian," Jess says. "I think the symbolism would be pretty meaningful."

"Do it and I'll sell it to Harper Collins, jackass."

"Feel free, shithead, I could use the money."

Chris grumbles angrily, pointedly turning back to his laptop.

Jess gives him a full thirty seconds, out of the kindness of heart. "Your middle name is Michael, right? My mom dated somebody named Mike for two years. He was a big Powerpuff Girls fan."

"Okay," Chris says, and rises to storm out, "enjoy hell! Hope you like it!"

"My twelfth grade chemistry teacher was named Mrs. Michaela Michaels," Jess calls after him. "Everyone called her Mike Cubed!"

Chris makes a wordless sound of rage that echoes through the bookstacks, and Jess laughs in satisfaction. Willa stirs briefly, and then snuggles a little closer beneath Jess' chin.

"Boy Chris is in a bad mood," Jess whispers. Willa sighs in her sleep, and doesn't reply.

* * *

Girl Chris does turn out to be blonde, and hot, and also, Canadian, which is not so coincidentally why she is familiar with Jess' ex. On a literary level, anyway.

"I have dual citizenship," she explains, wandering around the shop as she talks. Boy Chris is watching her warily, not unlike the way he usually watches that kid who always tries to shoplift the novelty bookmarks from behind the register. "My dad was born in Vancouver. Hey, is this Yulissa Bedina? You publish her too?"

"Please don't touch the merchandise," Boy Chris says loftily, which Girl Chris rightfully ignores.

"I _love_ her," Girl Chris says, flipping through the book.

"You can keep that one, it doesn't officially come out until the end of the month," Jess offers, and glares when Boy Chris lobs a pen at his head. "What? Matt told us to be nice."

"I'll pay for it," Girl Chris says, smirking at her male counterpart, who is now glaring at Jess instead of her. "Support the artist, and all that. Especially poets; I hear they're sort of worse off."

"It's fifteen dollars," Jess warns her.

"Jesus fuck!" Girl Chris exclaims, and puts the slim volume back on top of the pile. "Never mind, she's not _that_ good."

Jess likes her.

"She looks a little like you," Jess tells Boy Chris, who is still watching her move warily around the shop, now accompanied by a dopey-looking Matthew. "You know, if you were a white girl."

"Shut the fuck up," Boy Chris says. "She looks like the fucking love child of Madonna and Charlize Theron. Every time she smiles at him I can see his dick get hard. See?" He points. "It just happened again."

"You're not in love with him or anything, are you?" Jess asks, semi-seriously. "I was only joking about the flirting thing, but - "

"What, no," Boy Chris says, and grimaces. Jess studies him carefully, and decides that it's genuine. "Me and Matt? Gross."

"I'm just asking."

"I don't like change," Boy Chris says, sulkily. "You know this about me."

Jess chooses to let that one be. "You've known Matt since fifth grade, dude, and this isn't exactly the first time he's done something ridiculous."

"I'm worried," Boy Chris admits, after a weird moment of silence. "I'm - I'm just worried."

"Yeah," Jess says, and looks over at the newlyweds, talking quietly and intensely in-between the stacks. "They're not merging accounts or anything, so."

"Not like there's a whole lot for her to steal," Boy Chris says dryly. He turns away, finally, and crosses his arms across his chest. "You gonna introduce her to Willa?"

Jess keeps looking at them. Matt smiles, suddenly, and he can hear Girl Chris laugh. But her back is turned, so he can't see her face to see how real it is, how her smile matches up to Matthew's. "Not right away. We'll see how it goes."

"Yeah."

Jess feels the urge for a cigarette, the first one he's had in weeks. He quit for good the day he brought Willa back home, and he only ever thinks about it when she's not around. "You should go ask her why she hated my book."

"Ugh, no, you loser, you do it if you wanna know."

" _I_ can't do it."

"Then live with the fucking mystery, dipshit," Boy Chris says.

Jess sighs angrily. "Fine."

"You need to get laid, man," Boy Chris says.

"Fuck off."

"No, I'm serious. Maybe Girl Chris has some science friends." Boy Chris pauses. "What do you think scientists are like in bed?"

"Ask Matthew," Jess suggests.

Boy Chris wrinkles his nose. "I can definitely live with that mystery, thanks," he says.


	10. Chapter 10

In September, Jess goes to Washington state to meet a new author, the first time he's been away from Willa for more than one or two days since he brought her home. All things considered, he doesn't handle it particularly well.

"You slept with who?!" asks Matthew. Jess can hear both of the Chrises laughing in the background. The only time they ever get along, it seems, is when they're making fun of Jess, which is just super.

"Nobody you know, I slept with - okay, well, she's married," Jess says. Matthew groans. "It was just a girl at a bar! But, uh, her husband works at my hotel, turns out, the only hotel actually, and, well - "

"Jesus Christ," says Matt.

"Fucking small towns, I swear to God," Jess says, looking around his new accommodation, which doubles as a sort of aviary. There are no less than four birds in here, two of which aren't even in cages. Jess eyes the green one with trepidation. "Well the good news is, Sheila's a great writer. She's also a very nice person, generally. And she really, really likes parrots."

"You didn't tell her we'd publish her book just so she'd let you sleep on her couch, right?"

"No, I told her we'd publish her book because it's a good fucking book," Jess says. "The couch was a sort of secondary bonus."

"Is she married?" Matthew asks archly.

"She's sixty-four years old, Matthew," Jess says.

"I notice that you didn't answer the question."

"This is why people call you a bitch all the time, you know," Jess says.

Somebody laughs again in the background, and Jess sighs, inching his foot away from the green bird, which seems to be inspecting his boot. Sheila had said they were friendly, but she also scooted out of the room pretty quickly, making sure to only open the door wide enough to slip through. Jess is wary. He doesn't have a stellar history with birds.

"Can I ask you a question? A serious question."

"I'd rather you didn't," Jess says honestly.

"Have you ever been involved, romantically speaking I mean, with anyone who wasn't committing adultery in some way?" Matthew asks. He does sound serious, and sort of earnest in the way that he usually is, which makes it really hard to actively be annoyed by him. That's the problem with Matt - he's a ridiculous person, but he really means it, is the thing. "I ask this as a friend, and not a judgmental colleague."

Jess has to think about it, which is just pathetic, even he can admit it. "Yes," he says, wincing when it comes out defensive, even to his own ears. "There was this girl in high school."

"Okay," Matthew says slowly.

"And," Jess says, and pauses. "Well I mean. Yes, there are others. Tons...of others."

"Okay," Matthew says again.

Jess sighs. "Yeah, so. Great. Therapy hour's done. Can you put my daughter on the phone, please?"

"She's asleep, man," Matthew says, with genuine regret. "The Chrises got her to go down about an hour ago. We could wake her up?"

Jess genuinely considers it, and very nearly tells him to do it, but the logical, responsible part of his brain that's tripled in size since he became a parent is too insistent to ignore. "No," he says, and kicks vindictively at the air around the green bird. It squawks at him angrily and finally flutters away. "No, don't, it's fine. She'll be up all night if you do that."

"Sorry," Matt says.

"It's fine," Jess replies, even though it's not fine. It's terrible, actually. Jess hasn't felt this not-fine in a long time, since - well, since before Willa, really. "The whole thing was stupid, really. I know better."

"I really don't think I have the right to give you shit about impulsive romantic decisions on business trips," Matt says.

"I need to quit doing this shit," Jess says. "I really do. I'm too old for it, and - I need to do better."

"You're doing fine," Matt says gently, because that's the other thing, with Matthew. He always knows exactly what the real problem is. "Nobody expects you to be perfect, man. You can't be superdad every day of your life, it's gonna drive you crazy."

"Yeah," Jess says.

"Not even perfect parents are perfect, and anyway, Willa deserves a dad who does fuck up every once in awhile," Matt says. "That's how kids learn, sometimes. And it'll help her to see you as a human, so she knows she doesn't have to be perfect."

Jess rests his forehead on his free hand, staring at the floor. "Yeah," he says.

"You're a really good father, Jess," Matt says fervently.

"Sure."

"This isn't helping, is it?"

"Not really," Jess says, and rubs his eyes. He's had a monster headache ever since he woke up to the concierge pounding down his door, and it's only gotten worse. This entire fucking room smells like bird shit. "Thanks, though."

"No problem," Matt says earnestly. "You're better than your dad ever was, at least. Better than mine, too. That's something."

Jess' chest aches. "Yeah, that's something, alright," he says, with a bitter laugh. "Whatever. Thanks, dude. It's fine, though."

Matt clears his throat, and acknowledges the silent request. "The book's really good, huh?"

"It really is," Jess says, and means it.

"Are there birds in it?"

"Actually, no," Jess says, grinning at the sudden realization. "But the main character is called Robin."

"Of course it is," says Matt.

* * *

Sheila of the birds is also allergic to caffeine, but in a display of either generosity, pity, or gratitude for her newfound side career as a novelist (or maybe a mixture of all three), she goes out and buys Jess a gigantic cup of coffee before he even wakes up.

"You look like the sort," she says, "no, it was no trouble, really. You wanna know a secret?" She grins at him. "The guy at the teashop and I flirt sometimes. So there's ulterior motives, see."

Jess gives her a bro nod, which she seems to find incredibly entertaining. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Sheila says, nudging the pile of croissants towards him pointedly, in a grandmotherly fashion. Jess takes one obediently.

She looks like Jess' mother will probably look at age sixty-four; a long, grey-streaked braid, peasant skirt, faded tattoos, dangly earrings. She'd wasted most of her cover letter on her manuscript talking about chakras; Jess almost hadn't read it. Boy Chris still thinks he's wasting his time, reading the full novels that come in on the slush pile, but Jess doesn't want it to be that kind of publishing company. So he read it anyway.

She needs a better opening chapter, and an agent, which Jess is planning on telling her, as soon as he finishes his coffee. But he'll gonna publish her book without either of those things if he has to, and it really, honestly isn't because she let him sleep in her aviary. He woke up with a bird on his chest, so - as far as bribes go, Jess has received better.

She's friendly, and doesn't seem all that impressed by him, despite the fact that she probably knows the final decision is his, as far as her book goes. If anything, that makes Jess like her more. If there's anything in the world that can turn Jess off quicker, it's an older person with an agenda. "So. I know I really shouldn't ask, but," Sheila says, as they slowly work their way through her basket of croissants. "My God, I so want to ask."

"It was a misunderstanding," Jess says. "That's what you're supposed to say, right? A misunderstanding, or - miscommunication."

Sheila laughs. "A private matter?"

"Right." Jess snaps his fingers at her.

"You know this is all anyone's gonna talk about for the next, oh, year or so," Sheila says. "Maddie and that businessman of hers - they're always like this. It's better than reality television."

Jess winces. "Awesome."

"I wouldn't feel bad or nothing, though," Sheila says, looking infinitely amused. "You're from out of town. You couldn't have known."

He had known, actually. Maddie, whom he'd met at the hotel bar, was sadder and drunker than he was, and she'd blurted it out in the elevator up to his room. He'd told her he was married too, on impulse. He's not quite sure why he did that. Maybe pity, maybe to make her feel better. But he doesn't think so.

It isn't often that Jess feels guilty about his terrible decisions, particularly when it comes to this kind of thing. He's never cheated on anyone, but he's helped plenty of others do it - as Matthew had so helpfully pointed out last night - but he doesn't feel bad about it. Honestly. There was something rotten there already, if they were capable of loving Jess back, the way Mari did, the way Rory did. And as far as himself - well, he's used to wanting things that are just slightly out of his reach. Close enough for hope, but far enough for pain. It's possible Jess needs some therapy.

There's a part of him that will never grow any older than sixteen, angry and obstinate and contrary. He doesn't feel guilty for being selfish, for wanting things that aren't his to take. He's not capable of the kind of empathy that people like Matthew and Rory have, where they're decent to everyone, just for the sake of being decent. And for most of his life, he didn't want to be different; he honestly didn't care if he was, at his core, kind of a jerk. He'd embraced it, come to terms with it. Talked to God and Hemingway and sorted it out with the both of them, resigned himself to who he was, to the parts of his personality he really didn't know how to change. Then he had a daughter, and now every time he thinks about the shitty things he's done, the women he's used and treated badly, the booze and the drugs and the fights and those wretched eight months in California that Jess couldn't even talk about with Hemingway, a part of his heart shrivels and curls in on itself in shame.

Everything changes, with kids. Jess knew that, intellectually, when he made the decision to say yes, when he spent those first two months driving an hour and a half every day just to sit outside Mari's house, just for the chance of seeing his baby. But he didn't really know. He didn't know that it'd change the way he looks at himself. He really, really doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He's never known, but it never mattered as much before as it does now.

So. "Thanks for the excuse," Jess tells Sheila, "but I don't need it."

"Fair enough," Sheila says, and looks vaguely impressed. "You want the last one?"

"Nah."

"Okay," Sheila says, and stuffs the entire croissant in her mouth. Jess hides a smile as she chews. "So, your flight's not until five, right? You want to get out of town for awhile? We could talk business in the car."

"I would absolutely love to do that," Jess says.

"You ever seen the mountains?" Sheila asks.

"Not sober," Jess says honestly.

"Rad," Sheila says excitedly. "I love virgins."

* * *

Boy Chris calls in the car and lets Jess talk to Willa, who, being hours ahead in Philly, has just woken up from her afternoon nap. Jess feels very little shame about how hard he's grinning as she babbles into the phone, and Sheila seems to find it charming anyway, the way most women do with baby-related displays such as this one.

"How old is she?" she asks, after he hangs up. "Toddler, maybe - two?"

"Not quite," Jess says. "About eighteen months."

"Oh, mercy," Sheila says, "no wonder you needed to get laid."

Jess laughs out loud.

"I got a son," Sheila tells him, reaching over to pull down the sun visor on Jess' side. There're are a few pictures stuffed beneath an elastic band, and Jess flips through them slowly. There's a blonde kid in all of them, at various stages of life, with various expressions of resentment on his face. Jess has an eerie feeling of deja vu, looking at them. "Peter, is his name. He lives in Florida."

"You keep in touch?"

"No." Sheila shrugs, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. "He lived with his daddy after the divorce. You know how it goes."

Jess slides the pictures carefully back into place, trying not to bend them. Sheila was only in one of them, wearing a power suit and expensive jewelry. Nobody starts out as a New Age hippie, Jess knows, you just sort of end up there accidentally.

"You really think my book is good then, huh?" Sheila says. "It's about him, you know. Peter."

"I figured it was about somebody," Jess tells her. He squints out at the horizon. The sun piercing, even with the borrowed aviators he's got on. "Yeah, it's good. It's smart, it's engaging. And it says something important, which is the vital thing, when it comes to a novel."

"You think so?" Sheila gives a small, quirky little smile. "The last couple places I sent it to said it was too 'genre.'"

Sheila's book is about a man who wakes up and discovers he has superpowers. Jess grins at her. "If you'd compared it to Kafka in your cover letter, they might've thought differently."

She laughs. "Good point."

"A book can be genre and literary at the same time," Jess tells her, and means it. "When I was younger, I thought the same way about it. I read a lot of arrogant fiction, you know. Burroughs, Bukowski, Bret Easton Ellis - "

"As one does, when one is a young man," Sheila says, forgiving him once more.

Jess shakes his head. "Yeah, well. You either grow out of it or you don't, and the difference is what you're open to reading, what you're open to seeing. The truth is, there's a lot of literature out there that says nothing, and a lot of genre that says a lot. And who gives a shit where the author got their MFA? Not the person picking it up in the store. Not the person reading it. They don't care - all they care about is if it's good, if it tells them something, if it shows them a way they've never seen before. Writing's not about the writer, it's about the reader. Everything else is just ego."

Sheila is quiet for a moment, driving in contemplative silence. "So you do think it's genre," she says, "but you're gonna publish it anyway?"

Jess laughs. "Well, I'm a publisher. Publishers love genre."

"I can see that." Sheila laughs along with him. "I'm okay with being genre. I guess I just thought...I didn't want to be underestimated because of it."

"I know the feeling," Jess says.

They drive in silence, again. Jess thinks about the mountains, and Willa. He wants her to see things like that in a good way. On family vacations and stuff. He doesn't want her to experience the world like he did: secondhand, through a bus window, a postcard backdrop to his latest nervous breakdown. He wants beauty and wonder to be real, tangible things for her, not faraway concepts that she can only imagine by how they're described in a novel. He wants, just, so many things. So very many things for her, and he doesn't know where to start.

He wants to do better, but he wants to mean it, is the thing. Maybe he can start with the mountains. Apparently he hasn't lost all of his virginities yet. The thought is oddly comforting.

"So what do you read?" he asks. "You didn't put that in your cover letter."

"Oh, mostly romance novels, nowadays," Sheila tells him.

Jess laughs again. "Okay. I can see it."

"I watch a lot of TV, though," Sheila says. "Movies, too. I could recite the entire script of The Shining to you, off the top of my head. That's what I used to do, actually - I was a producer for Paramount for twenty years."

"Movies are underrated too," Jess tells her. "As an art form, I mean."

Sheila beams at him. "I knew you were my kinda publisher."

"Well, I'll try to be," Jess says.


	11. Chapter 11

Luke and Lorelai are engaged again, which Jess thinks has maybe a 50/50 chance of actually sticking this time around. Apparently he's not the only one to doubt it, as he endures a forty-minute phone call with Rory about a town betting pool, run by Kirk (who Rory very strongly suspects is a patsy, if only she could figure out for who). Jess, if he's honest, doesn't care much. It'd be nice not to be related to his ex-girlfriend, admittedly, but Luke will still be Luke either way, and Jess is fairly certain that his uncle has enough joy and fulfillment in his life now that he'd probably be the "charming, gruff bachelor" instead of "that bald guy who yells at strangers in the town square", if it didn't work out. But - who knows. It's all relative.

"Lorelai wants Willa to be the flower girl," Luke informs Jess, which really means Luke wants Willa to be the flower girl, but he doesn't want Jess to know it. "The wedding's in December; will she be walking by then? Or does somebody need to like, hold her hand?"

"Luke," Jess says patiently, "she's walking now." And hasn't that been a series of exciting and absolutely terrifying moments.

"Well yeah, but I mean - walking on her own and not falling down every two seconds."

"I don't know," Jess says, incredulous, "hold on, I can go ask her what her plans are, as far as the schedule of her development goes."

"I'm just asking you what you think, you know, as her _parent_ , if she'll be able to handle walking down the aisle alone."

"We're talking about December of this year, right," Jess asks, "as in three months from now? She's two, Luke. Yes, she needs someone to walk down the aisle with her."

Luke sighs, like _Jess_ is the one being difficult here. "You can't, you know. Work with her on it?"

"Sure, Luke, I'll send her to toddler boot camp," Jess says, rolling his eyes. "Do you want me to teach her to roll over and fetch, too? Could be a fun trick for the reception."

"Well, I'm sorry, this is a lot harder than it was any of the other times I've done it," Luke says defensively. "Do you know how many people want to be in the wedding party? I've got groomsmen coming out of my ears, here."

"Feel free to cut me from the roster, I won't be offended," Jess offers.

"Nice try," Luke says. "You're the best man."

"What?!" Jess says. "I never agreed to that!"

"Too bad," Luke says smugly.

"Don't you have to ask me that sort of thing?"

Luke just snorts. "Right. _Ask_. I wasn't born yesterday, kid."

Jess gives an aggravated sigh. "I'm not throwing you a fucking bachelor party."

"Which is exactly why you're the best man, because you're not gonna do anything but show up. That's gonna work out great for me," Luke says, with great satisfaction. "But - if T.J. asks, then it would've broken your heart if I didn't ask you. FYI."

Jess groans.

"But that's why you can't walk Willa down the aisle - you're paired with Rory. Maid of honor, best man."

"Jesus Christ, Luke," Jess blurts, "I can't _walk Rory down the aisle_ , are you insane?"

"What?" Luke squawks. "Oh come on, you were just kids. Ancient history."

"Luke," Jess says, with a little less patience than before, "is Rory bringing Logan?"

"Yeah," Luke says blankly. A long pause. "Oh."

"Put her with someone else," Jess says wearily, rubbing his temples, "I'll walk with Willa."

"Aw, jeez," Luke says. "Who? I'm not making that dumbass trust fund a groomsman. And if I make Rory walk with T.J. she'll kill me."

"Figure it out," Jess says mercilessly. "Just tell them Willa will be scared if she's with anyone but me, or something. Play up the baby angle."

"Jeez," Luke grumbles again. "This is what happens when you don't think things through, Jess. Didn't I tell you? I warned you."

"Oh my God," Jess says, "yeah, okay Luke, I should've taken into consideration that you would end up marrying her mother a decade later, even though you were clearly planning on tragic pining for the rest of your sad, weird life. Next time I'll do better."

"I'm just saying, there are plenty of nice girls that don't have jealous boyfriends, okay? Plenty. Pretty ones, even."

Typical. The one time Jess actually isn't the one with the chauvinistic chip on his shoulder, he still gets blamed. "Just - add someone else, okay. It'll be uneven anyway if I'm not walking with the others, just - ask Cesar."

"Cesar has a winter home in Florida now," Luke says. "He's not gonna be here."

"He's not coming back for your _wedding_?!"

"We're not that close," Luke says.

"He's worked for you for twenty years!"

"He's a hard man to get to know!" Luke says defensively. "And I'm not asking Taylor. No way."

"Why in the hell would you ask Taylor?"

"He keeps hinting," Luke says. He sounds kind of hunted, so Jess leaves that one alone.

"What about Lane? Groomsmen don't have to be male."

Luke pauses. "Well," he says.

"She'd do it, she idolizes you, for some reason," Jess says, "and she and Rory would get a kick out of walking down the aisle together."

"That's," Luke says, "not...actually a horrible idea."

"April's one of the bridesmaids, right? Pair her up with T.J. She thinks he's funny."

"Because she's crazy," Luke grumbles, but it's a friendly grumble. Crisis averted, Jess thinks. "She gets that from her mother."

"Sure, Luke," Jess says indulgently. "You're obviously where all of her logical, levelheaded genes come from."

Luke gives a loud harrumph. He sounds a little like an elephant. "Are you gonna bring anyone?"

"What, like a date?" Jess asks. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Luke, I'm sure," Jess says flatly.

"I'm just saying, if you show up with someone last minute, they're not getting fed."

"Who would I bring?" Jess demands. "I'm not dating anyone."

"I heard about that girl in Washington," Luke says disapprovingly.

Jess gapes at the phone for a second. "How?"

"Matthew and I talk," Luke says.

"Don't do that," Jess orders, "don't talk to Matthew. I forbid it."

"He was worried about you, Jess," Luke says, the shit-eating grin overflowing in every syllable. "He just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know. Emotionally."

"I hate," Jess says, and can't even finish the sentence, because there's no way to even describe how much of everything that he hates. It defies words.

"I'll put you down for a plus one, and if you end up coming stag, we'll give the extra dinner to Kirk," Luke says smugly.

Jess very nobly resists the urge to throw the cell phone across the room. "Fine."

"You know, there's a new girl at the Inn that Lorelai just hired, about your age. She'll be there. If you want, I can - "

"Don't you fucking dare," Jess hisses. "I will kill you, Luke. I will literally kill you at your own wedding reception."

"She's cute," Luke insists. "Her name is Ashley. And she's separated from her husband, but she's still married, I think. So - just your type."

"Go to hell."

"Fine, fine," Luke says. "Touchy."

"Am I giving a speech?" Jess asks.

"No," Luke says, a little too quickly.

Jess smirks. "I'm giving a speech."

"You hate speeches," Luke says. "You hate talking in general. Especially to other people. In public."

"I'm a writer, Luke. I give readings all the time."

"Oh, I'll believe that when I see it."

"I'm going to give a fantastic speech," Jess says, "one that truly honors all that you've done for me. Because you deserve it, Uncle Luke."

"Oh, come on," Luke says, dismayed. "Please don't."

"It's tradition, Luke. I'm the best man."

"Just," Luke says desperately, "we're taping the whole thing, remember. Okay? Just keep that in mind."

"I'm not ashamed of my feelings," Jess tells him. "It's a mark of maturity, being unafraid to be emotionally honest with your family. And I'm a mature adult now, Uncle Luke. I have a _daughter_ , remember."

"Aw, jeez," Luke says.


	12. Chapter 12

Doula is, objectively, a very cute child. Willa is, also objectively, way cuter. Jess is aware that it's fucked up, how smug he is about that.

Liz has been trying very hard not to piss Jess off lately in a desperate effort to see her granddaughter, which does actually make him feel kind of bad, so he's started to bring Willa over, whenever they're in Stars Hollow. It's only ended in tears once, and that was mostly because T.J. accidentally impaled himself with a butter knife, so he doesn't think that counts. Mostly it's just yelling, mostly from Doula, who, to the shock and awe of literally nobody but Liz, is not happy about the new baby in everybody's lives. Jess is also aware that it's fucked up to be smug about that, too.

"She's doing it wrong," Doula says, standing guard in Liz's kitchen with her hands on her hips. For a five year old, she's got a hell of a voice. Jess has an flashback sense memory of being scolded by his eighth grade teacher every time she says anything that sounds remotely displeased, which for Doula, is a lot. "I'm not gonna play with her if she's gonna do it wrong."

"Honey," Liz says, "she's younger than you, remember? She's not as smart as you, yet."

Jess has to grip the edges of his chair to keep from literally, physically hitting her. It's a scary moment. "Why don't I just bring her in here?"

"No, it's," Liz says quickly, "we're eating, we're talking. Doula's been looking forward to playing with Willa all week, and - if we leave them alone, they'll work it out."

"I don't like her," Doula announces. "She keeps throwing stuff at me."

"Mom," Jess says pointedly.

"Doula, she's your niece, okay, remember we talked about this?"

"I still don't like her," Doula says stubbornly, giving Jess a side-eye. He tries to look non-threatening, which he knows never works. Especially with Doula, who has always regarded him with suspicion. "She stole my Barbie."

"Mom," Jess says, a bit more pointedly.

Liz sighs. "Whatever. Fine." She waves at him vaguely, her attention on Doula, and Jess seizes the opportunity before she changes her mind.

He finds Willa in the playpen in the living room, contentedly destroying one of Doula's Barbie dolls. Jess sighs, and extracts it from her grip as nicely as he can.

"Maybe you do need obedience training," he grumbles, swooping her up into his arms and putting a little extra swing in it to make her laugh, so she doesn't lose her shit about the Barbie. Thankfully, it works, and Willa loops her arms around his neck, forgetting the matter completely. "Come on, hurricane."

"Dadadada," Willa says, which is her version of 'Daddy.' Jess still feels like he's having a heart attack every time he hears it. "Doooma."

"Doula," Jess corrects.

"Dooma dooma," Willa insists, so Jess nods and concedes the argument. "Dooooooooma!"

"She'll get over it eventually," Jess comforts her. "Possibly."

"Dooma," Willa says sadly.

"Sorry," Jess tries. The frown on her face says that he wasn't all that convincing.

Liz and T.J.'s house is sort of confusing - the kitchen is actually the dining room, because for some bizarre reason they'd installed a sink and moved the fridge and all the appliances in there, as if the actual, functional, fully-equipped kitchen that the house already had was deficient, in some way. Most of the house is like that. Jess has never really listened that closely when either of them have explained it. The actual kitchen is where T.J. keeps his power tools.

"Hey there, peanut," Liz says excitedly, when they enter, rising to hold her arms out for Willa. Jess squashes the vindictive, petty part of him that wants to say no, and obediently hands her over. "I'm sorry, Jess, Doula's just kind of cranky today. But that's okay, isn't it, Willa?" She scrunches up her face playfully, bouncing Willa on her hip as she sways back over to the table, still laden with the variety of weird vegetables and grains that was their lunch. "You and me and Daddy will just hang out then, won't we? We can have fun anyway!"

Willa, who regards Liz with the same kind of skepticism she reserves for most adults who smile at her, frowns deeply.

"I sent her to her room," Liz tells Jess. "She's nervous about starting school - she's been so snappy all week. She'll play by herself for a couple hours and then be happy as a clam again."

Doula is kind of snappy in general, Jess has noticed. It's one of the things he likes about the kid. "She hasn't started already? It's almost October."

"Oh, I'm home schooling her," Liz says brightly. "You know, there's so many more options out there now than there were when you were a kid! I found this great program, based in Maryland. It's all online, you choose your own curriculum, and they have some great tutors, really. Doula's is this wonderful woman from Indiana. It's all on video calls and email, so she doesn't even have to leave the house!"

Jess sits back down at the table and very deliberately does not think anything judgmental. "Sounds great."

"I wish it'd been around when you were a kid," Liz says wistfully. Jess grips the edge of his chair again. "You should look into it for Willa."

"I don't think I'll have the time for something like that, Mom," Jess says. "Besides, she doesn't get to be around other kids very much. I don't want her to grow up to be one of those weird, hermit children."

Liz laughs. "Like you were?"

"I wasn't a hermit."

"You were a little bit of a hermit," Liz says, scrunching her fingers together in the air. She looks down at Willa, who is still watching her warily, dead silent. That, if anything, is a sign of her discomfort, and Jess forces himself to sit still, his entire body itching to reach out and snatch her back. He manages it, but only barely. "Just a little. His teachers all called him a 'loner.'"

His teachers called him a loner because they couldn't use the phrase 'arrogant dipshit' on a report card, but whatever. Jess doesn't want to fight. "That's probably because I never showed up for class, Mom."

"Well, when you were older, maybe. When you were a kid you loved school." Liz's face changes a little, gets a little sadder. "Straight As, every semester. They were talking about you maybe skipping a grade, right before - well." She shakes her head, seeming to realize that going down that road is not the best decision, if she wants to keep Jess and Willa in her house. "Anyway. We're a smart bunch, the Danes/Marianos. Willa will fit right in, won't you, peanut?" Willa, hearing her name, perks up a bit, relaxing enough in Liz's lap to lose the frown. Jess smiles at her, and she visibly relaxes even more. "You should see some of the stuff Doula's been reading, Jess. She's a mini-Rory!"

Jess sips his coffee, feeling awkward. He's not exactly the most attentive brother, and he's not sure whether that's his failing, or just a casualty of the entire situation. "That's great."

"She loved that book you sent her, the one about penguins." Liz beams. "She's a little - she takes a while to warm up to people, is all. She needs time to get used to you guys."

The hopeful, earnest look on her face is giving Jess actual chest pains. This is why he'd stayed away, if he's being honest with himself. It's not just that he was angry and resentful, it's that he can never keep it up very long when he's actually around her. She can't help it, is the thing. She never could. "Willa's the same."

"Yeah." Liz looks down at Willa fondly, who has unclenched enough to reach out and start playing with one of Liz's long, dangling necklaces. "I can tell. That's alright, peanut," she says softly, running her hands gently through Willa's thick, dark hair. "I don't mind. We've got plenty of time, don't we?"

Jess watches them silently, his heart throbbing.

"Dooma," Willa says quietly, and Liz's face lights up.

"That's right! Aunt Doula! Oh my gosh." She bends down and kisses Willa's nose. "You are so smart!"

"Dadadada," Willa complains, reaching out, clearly freaked out by the kiss. Jess gives her his hand, not wanting to offend his mom by picking her up, but Liz just keeps grinning madly, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Dadadadadaaa."

"Oh, Jess," Liz says. "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, she likes, uh," Jess says, leaning forward a bit more and brushing Willa's hair back, soothing her back into Liz's embrace. "Adding extra syllables to things."

"Does she talk a lot?" Liz asks eagerly, still visibly choked up. She keeps fluttering her hands around, touching Willa's shoulders, her back, her head. "Does she say any other words?"

"She said Luke's name once," Jess tells her. "Only once, though, and it was when she saw a picture of him, so he wasn't around. She says Matt's name, and Chris'. She calls April 'ape.'"

"Ape!" Willa says helpfully, and Liz laughs in delight.

"A couple others. 'Bed,' and 'no,' of course. Says that one a lot. And she makes a kind of hooting noise for this stuffed owl she has."

"Can you say 'Grandma'?" Liz asks, leaning down to make eye contact. Willa reaches out and grabs a fistful of her hair. Liz barely even reacts. "Grandma?"

"Ape," Willa says again, idly.

"Or maybe 'Liz' would easier, you can call me Liz if you want," she says. "Grandma might make me feel old. I dunno."

"Maaaaaaaah," Willa says suddenly, loud and slow, her eyes wide. She laughs when Liz jumps in surprise, and so of course, does it again, even more dramatically. "Maaaaaaaaw."

"Close enough! Oh, oh." Liz wraps her in a gentle hug, her hair falling across Willa's back like a cape. "Jess, she's so beautiful and smart and wonderful, I can't stand it."

"I know," Jess says.

Liz pulls back, wiping tears from her cheeks. She doesn't make eye contact. "We're so lucky, you know? I think about that sometimes. Especially with moments like this. We're so lucky to be here, and to have this."

Jess wraps his hands carefully around his coffee cup, watching his daughter bounce happily, yanking cruelly at Liz's hair. They look a little alike, Jess realizes. Around their eyes.

"Yeah," he says.

* * *

Willa zonks out at two o'clock on the dot every afternoon, without fail, no matter where she is, which is a blessing on Jess from some kind of God. Whichever one he hasn't pissed off yet. Liz doesn't let go of her until she absolutely has to, even carrying her out to Jess' car herself, cradling her gently, smoothing her hands over her hair, over and over again, before she finally pulls away.

"Jess, sweetheart," Liz says, after they've got Willa safely settled in, happily dead to the world in the car seat. "Look, um. I don't wanna - I don't wanna make you mad. I'm just...aw man. I'm so bad at this."

"Mom," Jess says uncomfortably.

"No, I'm not gonna...I just wanna say," Liz says, firming her chin, "I know you're probably only doing this because you were gonna see us at the wedding anyway, and that's - well, it's not okay, but I mean, I get it. Sort of."

Jess sighs, leaning against the car and trying not to look at her. She's going to start crying again; he can feel it. "Mom, that's not - "

"I just, I've been talking to Lorelai, and," Liz takes a deep breath, "and a therapist, and I know - I'm sorry if I made you feel like you weren't welcome here, because you are. It's not about - me and T.J. and Doula, that's like - okay yeah, we're a new family, and we kind of went incommunicado for a couple years, and that's on me. I know it's on me. I could've called, too. But I just don't know how to _talk_ to you."

She's definitely crying again. "Mom."

"You're so intimidating sometimes, you know?" Liz says. Her voice is shaking, but she looks determined, the same combination she wore when they'd fight, when Jess still lived with her. Jess' stomach is churning; she would always say the nastiest things when he'd push her to the point of tears, which in retrospect was probably why she'd say them. As an adult, Jess can understand how that all went down a little better. He's starting to understand a lot of things like that, about his mom. "I know I wasn't the best...you know. But there has to be a way back. There's gotta be a way that we can be friends again. We used to be friends, didn't we?"

"Yeah, Ma," Jess admits sadly. "Yeah, we did."

"I know you didn't keep her away to punish me," Liz says, her voice cracking. "I get that. And I forgive you, for whatever the hell that's worth. But I don't want..." Liz gestures helplessly, her hands shaking. "This. I don't want this. I want it to be better."

"You can't just say that and expect it to happen," Jess says.

"I know that! I know." She wipes at her eyes angrily.

"But that's what you were doing before," Jess says. "Do you get that? _That's_ why I had to stay away. I couldn't deal with how that was fucking me up, when I had so many other things fucking me up, too. You know?"

Liz nods, her eyes on the ground. Jess shakes his head, feeling like a piece of shit.

"I don't hate you, Ma," he says. "I don't."

Liz's face twists. "I know," she says, her voice breaking again.

"If we're gonna do this, if we're gonna figure it out, then we need to do it right. We owe that to our kids," Jess says. He rubs his face, feeling raw, like an exposed wire. He hadn't brought a jacket, and it's really too cold out not to have one. Because, of course it's cold. Of course. "You're my mom. I mean, shit. I don't want...you're intimidating too, you know that?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Liz says helplessly, reaching out and snatching his hand. Her fingers are freezing.

"I don't want to hate you," Jess tells her desperately. "But I did, for a long time. And I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry."

"Jess," Liz says, her face collapsing. She blinks, and sort of leans forward, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. Jess breathes deeply, trying to keep it even, and touches her hair. She's shaking violently, from the cold, or the crying, or both.

"I'm sorry," he says again. His voice sounds faraway, like it's coming over a distant phone line.

"I deserved it," Liz says, muffled against his chest. "I'm sorry too. I'm so, so sorry, baby."

Jess' head feels too heavy for his body, and he drifts downwards slowly without really realizing what he's doing. Liz brings her arms up, around his neck, and suddenly it's a real hug, the kind they haven't shared in years. She still smells the same, she still feels the same. He can almost hear the sounds of their old apartment, smell the mildew that they could never quite scrub out of the corners. He's twelve years old again, leaning against her skirt in the kitchen as she teaches him how to make homemade candles. He's fourteen, playing Scrabble at two in the morning, because neither of them can sleep. He's nineteen, standing on a beach and wanting to talk to her so bad his entire body aches.

She broke his heart, when she sent him away. Maybe that was what he was really angry about. Maybe he never really got over it.

"I'm so freaking proud of you," Liz says. Her face is in his neck, and her words tumble over each other, coming out jumbled against his collarbone. "You've grown into such a good man, such a good, strong man. You're such a good dad. You're so _good_ , baby. And you did it all on your own, all by yourself. Even when I fucked up, when I wasn't there when I shoulda been, you did it anyway. That's on you, that's on how good you are, how strong and wonderful and smart."

"Ma," Jess says.

"I'm tryin' to do better with Doula," Liz says desperately, clenching her fists in his collar. "But it's not just about her, it's about you too. I wanted to show you that I could be good at it, that I'm better now. I wanted to deserve it." Her shoulders hitch. "I want you around, baby. I want us to be friends again, and I wanna watch your little girl grow up. I want it so bad, and I'll do anything I need to do to deserve that. I promise. I swear to God."

"Ma, please," Jess says, spreading his palm out against her back. Her shoulders hitch again. "Stop, stop. It's okay."

She cries for maybe a good thirty seconds, real, honest crying, and Jess feels every sob in every bone in his body. Then she takes one deep breath, and another one, and pulls away, smiling through the tears. "Okay, I'm done. I'm sorry. Done now."

Jess keeps his hands on her arms, and she leans into it, still shaking. They both really should be wearing jackets. "I didn't start doing this because of the wedding."

"Okay," Liz says.

"I mean it."

She nods, sniffling a couple more times. "Okay."

"If I'm strong," Jess says, trying to keep the words steady, to balance them on an even plane, so they come out right. "It's because of you. Everything good about me comes from you."

Liz bites her lip, her eyes filling up again.

"I mean, some of the bad shit comes from you, too," Jess says, and Liz barks out a loud laugh. "But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, no kidding," Liz says wryly, wiping furiously at her cheeks. Jess tries to smile at her, and she makes an attempt to smile back. It's a work in progress for both of them, probably.

"Let's just, uh," he says, "take it slow. I'm...getting there."

"Me too," Liz says.

"I do want you in Willa's life. I've always wanted you in her life. That was never, ever the issue."

Liz nods, reaching down to squeeze his hand again. "I know that. I think."

"Okay." Jess nods, and takes a deep breath. "Good."

"I love you," Liz says.

"Yeah," Jess says. "I know."

* * *

Willa wakes up halfway back to Philly and immediately starts throwing a tantrum. She hates being in the car more than she hates probably anything, excluding lullabies and Baby Genius DVDs, maybe, and waking up in one without any warning always pisses her off. So Jess pulls over at an IHOP and climbs into the backseat.

"C'mere, baby, it's okay," Jess murmurs, unhooking her from the complex machinations of her car seat. Willa keeps crying right up until she's in his arms, at which point she subsides into angry, resentful sniffling. "I know. Sorry, babe."

He probably is coddling her too much; Matthew keeps sending him parenting blogs and shit, and sometimes when he's feeling particularly panicky, he'll read them. Most of the advice is contradictory, but a common theme is that if you give in every time your kid wants something, they won't have any concept of boundaries. But Jess thinks he can wait on the boundaries thing for at least another year. He also thinks that any parent who can leave their kid alone to cry all night is obviously a sociopath.

"Did you have fun hanging out with Grandma?" Jess still feels weird calling her that. Willa scrunches up her face at him. "She's a lot to take in at first, I know. It's probably all that sage she burns. Makes her a little wacky."

"Dadadada," Willa says.

"Yeah, honey," Jess says. "What's up?"

"Dada," Willa says, clear as day. Jess sucks in a sharp breath. "Da _daaa_."

"That's me," he says, leaning his head back against the seat. The world is in sharp, high definition all around him; the sun is bright, the road is clear. Nothing but blue skies and warm, rolling hills, from here to eternity.

"Dada," Willa says, whining. Jess hitches her up on his knees, and she waves her arms impatiently, grabbing the sleeves of his shirt and bunching them in her little fists.

"Have you ever had pancakes?" Jess asks. Willa cocks her head at him. "No, I don't think you have. I'm a horrible cook, I know."

"Dada," Willa says, cautiously optimistic.

"You're gonna love this," Jess says. "Trust me."

"Dada," Willa says. Jess surges forward and nuzzles her stomach, making her laugh. "Dada!"

"Yeah, you're talkin' to him," Jess says. "Come on. Let's try something new."

"Bah," Willa says, dismissive. Jess laughs. She'll come around.


	13. Chapter 13

The book Jess has been writing has gone through several stages in the past year, and by "several stages," he means "deleting the entire thing in frustration and starting from scratch." So, maybe he's been writing several books, and this is just the only one that's stuck. Depends on the definition, maybe.

He goes back and forth with himself on who to let read it first, and rejects Rory as a possibility immediately. She's way too nice. Matthew's the same, and everyone else he knows will take too long to read it. Jess still isn't convinced that Luke even got around to finishing his first one.

Boy Chris will tell him to take out the love interest, which is the exact thing that Jess doesn't want to do, even though he knows it'd make it more palatable. So he gives it to the other Chris. For objectivity.

"I don't like it," she announces, walking straight into his office without knocking.

Jess closes his laptop, ready for this. "Okay," he says. Willa, in the little makeshift playpen that Jess sets up for her in the corner, jumps up in delight, clapping her hands.

Girl Chris adores Willa and is happily adored in return, so practically every conversation they have is conducted over his daughter's head, which is probably a major reason why they get along. Not that this Chris really actively gets along with anyone, it's more like - she allows them to spend time with her, and endures as much of it as she can before she has to leave and smoke a cigarette.

Other than Willa, anyway. "Hey there," says Chris, plopping down on the opposite side of the books that Willa's been carefully stacking, in some mysterious pattern that Jess hasn't figured out. "What's up, Willa?"

"Chris!" says Willa. She can pronounce it perfectly, due to the abundance of Chrises in her life. "Hooooooot!"

Chris takes the stuffed owl with a grin. "Thanks," she says, holding it up next to her face and turning a smug look at Jess. "Check it out, I got a present."

"We're learning to share, right Willa?" Jess says. Willa, tired of standing, snorts and plops down on a stack of hardbacks. "Also how not to destroy other people's stuff. Like _forty dollar Barbies_."

Chris laughs, carefully handing Hoot the Owl back. "Barbies are dumb, anyway."

"Hoot, hoot," Willa says, tucks the owl under her arm, and wobbles off to greener pastures. Chris catches a stack of books, steadying them as Willa hits them with a stray foot.

"So," Jess says, "lemme guess, too pretentious?"

"No," Chris says reluctantly, "though now that you mention it - "

"I did my best! Any residual pretension is just a side effect of my personality. Sorry."

Chris just rolls her eyes. "No. It's incongruous."

"Incongruous," Jess says.

"Yeah." Chris sits up on her knees, absently reaching out to carefully steer Willa away from the open door and back towards Jess' desk. "So you've got your protagonist, right, the unnamed narrator. She's got the story at college, which is like, one book all in itself. But then she's got this whole other story at home, about her family, and the missing brother and the marriage with the parents. And you try to fit them together just by going back and forth, like interspersing the scenes, but it doesn't work, because they're still different stories. Different tone, different voices, even. It doesn't fit."

Jess opens his mouth, then closes it again. Thinks about it for a second. "Shit," he says.

"The college story is sad, and kind of weird, but it works," Chris continues. "The family story is also weird, but it's funny. Work out the parallels between them. You don't have to like, rewrite the last half of the book, it's nothing that dramatic. You throw a stone at college, so make the ripples show up at home. That's the key."

Jess frowns at his computer, thinking. "Right."

"And you gotta give her a name," Chris says definitively. "You're not fucking Philip Roth. Get over yourself."

"Fuck off," Jess says with a groan. "I hate Philip Roth."

"So give her a name then," Chris says, and turns away to start playing with Willa, conversation over. Jess hates her, just a little bit.

* * *

Willa spends the next weekend in Stars Hollow with Luke and Lorelai, doing dress fittings and cake tastings and who knows what else, and Jess sits in his apartment and hates this fucking book more than anything he's ever hated in his life. He stays up all night Friday, then sleeps until two o'clock in the afternoon. He does the same thing Saturday, and on Sunday he calls Matt and Girl Chris.

"Helena," he blurts out, the moment the call connects. "That's her name."

"What?" Matt says.

"Give the phone to your wife," Jess demands.

Matt grumbles, but obeys, and Jess repeats himself.

"A little obvious," Chris says, skeptically. "Loyal young lover, betrayed by - "

"No, no, I got rid of the boyfriend," Jess says. "It's the brother. The brother's under the spell, right? And the parents, they're Hermia and Lysander, and the college is the forest. Right? The college is the fucking forest!"

Chris is silent for a minute. "Are you drunk?" she asks.

"No!" Jess runs his hands through his hair; looks at the clock. He hasn't even gotten out of bed yet. "I just woke up."

"Oh my God, you're such a freak," Chris says. "Hold on. Let me get dressed, I can't talk to you about this when I don't have pants on."

"Jesus, were you guys having sex?" Jess asks.

"No, I just don't have pants on," Chris says blankly.

Jess sighs, and lies back down.

* * *

"I think you're missing the point of the allegory, here."

"I thought you were trying to be _less_ pretentious, Jess."

"I am!"

"And so making this into an abstruse Shakespeare retelling accomplishes that goal how?"

"It's not abstruse, it's - it's not a retelling, anyway, who said it was a retelling? It's just the names, that's all. A fucking theme. The story's still the same, I'm just trying to invoke the motif of Midsummer, not turn the book into an elaborate metaphor."

"You literally just used the word 'allegory.'"

"I'm - no I didn't."

"You literally did."

"Well, I didn't mean it."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"Yes! Would you just - "

"Okay! Okay, explain the brother to me again. And keep it simple, Harold Bloom. Is he dead or not?"

"Of course he's fucking dead, he jumped off the roof of the dorm."

"I don't remember reading that!"

"Well! I...okay, my bad, I added that last night."

"For fuck's sake, Jess - "

"It's a funny scene. I mean, I think it is. The whole thing is a comedy. I think that's what I was missing before."

"I regret everything about our acquaintance. Literally every single thing."

"Excuse me, which one of us is a Nick Hornby fan? Not me. It was not me who said 'black humor is the only type of humor that smart people can enjoy.' And you call me pretentious - "

"You're taking that out of context!"

"Look, are you gonna read it again or not? I have to leave to pick Willa up in like twenty minutes."

"I hate you."

"..."

"Okay, send it to my work email."

"It's funny, okay. It's a comedy. Remember that."

"Shut the fuck up."

* * *

When Jess gets to Lorelai's house, there seven texts on his phone, reading as follows:

 _u didn't tell me the suicide scene is the OPENING FUCKING CHAPTER_

 _helena's a terrible name for a nineteen year old_

 _ok nvm helena's not that bad i can't believe u actually changed his name to demetrius u have GOT to change that back_

 _jesus christ jess mixed metaphors much_

 _ok i KNOW u were drunk when u wrote this dinner party scene. quit fucking lying_

 _IF YOU MISSPELL JUDGEMENT ONE MORE TIME I S2G. IT'S E-M-E-N-T, JESS. JUDGEMENT. JUDGEMENT. JUDGEMENT. JUDGEM_

 _ENT. JESUS!_

"New girlfriend?" asks Luke.

Jess scowls at him and puts his phone away. "You're a little obsessed with the topic of my love life, Uncle Luke."

"Just checking on your emotional health and well being," Luke says. He squints at Jess. "Your shoes don't match."

Jess scowls deeper. "How was the child?"

"A disaster. She knocked over Sookie's practice wedding cake. It made Martha cry."

"Which one is Martha again?" Jess asks.

Luke's still eyeing his shoes. "Seriously, why don't your shoes match? Are you drunk?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Jess' phone buzzes in his pocket again. "I'm writing a book, okay?"

Luke frowns. "Is that supposed to be a logical response somehow?"

"Just give me my daughter back."

"Lorelai let her eat most of the cake," Luke tells him smugly. He finally steps aside, letting Jess over the threshold. "The parts that weren't on the floor, anyway. Just warning you. They're all watching some cartoon in the living room. There's some dancing involved."

"I hate you," Jess says passionately.

"Seriously," Luke says. "Why don't your shoes match?"

Jess hits him as he walks past.

* * *

"You need to put the boyfriend back in," says Girl Chris.

Jess groans. "I just took him out."

"Yes, and in the process we completely miss the entire point of Helena's anger. Like, okay, we get it, but it's got no teeth. You need to drag her across the coals, Jess. You're being too nice to her!"

"I am not."

"You are! Oh my God, she's not based on somebody you're in love with, is she?" Chris wrinkles her nose. "Because that's pathetic."

"No," Jess says, who hasn't been in love with anyone since he was eighteen. And Helena is definitely not based on Rory. If anything, she's the anti-Rory. "Look, I took out the boyfriend because I put in the suicide. How am I supposed to write a book that starts with a suicide and ends with being left at the altar? It's fucking sadistic."

"That's the point. And don't end on the wedding scene, Jesus. We need to know what happened with him before she freaks out at the dinner party. If we don't know the context then she comes off like she's just lost her mind or something."

"Oh my God, that fucks up my entire timeline," Jess says with a groan.

"You're the one who fucked it up! I told you you didn't have to rewrite the entire book," Chris says, with a pointed lack of sympathy. "And the suicide's funny, so it doesn't count. You're fine. Put the boyfriend back in."

"Can I just," Jess says, kind of helplessly, "if I add dates to the chapters, can I just put everything wherever the fuck I want? Would that be confusing?"

"That's," Chris says, and pauses. "Okay, what, like, a Time Traveler's Wife kind of thing?"

"It's called a _non-linear narrative_ ," Jess says.

"Well excuse me, Mr. English Major," Chris says. "Fine. Okay. Try it and I'll read it."

Jess sighs. "Fine."

"Fine."

A long pause, wherein they both glare at the empty spaces around each other's heads. Willa, dozing peacefully on the couch, starts to snore.

"You're still gonna change the brother's name back, right?" Chris asks.

Jess snaps his laptop shut. "Yes, okay? Yes!"

"Jeez," Chris says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I was just asking."

* * *

Two days later.

"I said change the brother's name _back,_ Jess, to the one he had _before_ , not give him _my name!"_

"It's an inside joke," Jess tells her. "With the other Chris. Not about you."

"You're such a _prick_ ," Chris says, and throws a notebook at his head.

Jess was ready for it, and manages to dodge out of the way. "God, would you ease up?! This is an abuse-free workplace!"

"You killed me off!" Chris says, fuming. "You made me a dude, and you killed me off on the first fucking page of your novel!"

"Not everything is about you, Christine! I know _a lot_ of Chrises!"

Chris, this particular Chris, lets out a cry of rage, and stomps out of his office. Jess sits back down in his chair, and winces as he hears the front door slam.

"So," he says. "That was my editor."

Sheila, sitting in the chair opposite, nods, grinning ear to ear. "She seems nice," she says.

* * *

"Okay, wait, I don't get it," says April. "So Helena's not the same Helena from A Midsummer Night's Dream, but her parents actually...are Hermia and Lysander - ?"

"No, forget the Shakespeare, Jess, I told you to stop bringing up the stupid Shakespeare," says Chris. "Just - forget Shakespeare. Helena's just a girl. Her parents are just parents."

"But, no, okay," April says, "Helena and her mom, that's a lot like Helena and Hermia in the play. Like, they act more like friends than mother and daughter, and then there's the whole Thomas thing..."

"I told you putting the boyfriend back in was too sadistic," Jess says.

"I like it!" April says eagerly. "It's super messed up. But Thomas leaving Helena for her mom - that's like, totally Shakespearean. Or maybe - Greek tragedy. Yeah - totally Greek tragedy."

"And Chris," Jess says leadingly, "as in the fictional Chris, I mean - "

"Is like Helena's lost lover! Because she's the only one who stays loyal to him!" April says triumphantly. She wrinkles her nose. "Oh, that's super weird."

Jess nods in satisfaction. "See? It works. I told you - "

"Shut up," says Chris. The real one. "But, okay April, if nobody had told you about the Shakespeare thing, would you have still gotten it?"

"No," April admits, "but I've never read Shakespeare, so."

"You've never made her read Shakespeare?" Chris demands.

"She's not _my_ kid," Jess says.

"But I read Midsummer Night's Dream for school," April offers. "Well, I read some of it. And watched the movie."

"Right. Okay," Chris says, "what about the dad? What do you think? I think he should kill him off, too."

"What? No!" April cries. "The dad's the funniest one! You gotta keep him around. He deserves the happy ending, with Helena. That's what I thought would happen, when I was reading, and it made sense and everything. It kind of makes you feel better, after all the suicide and adultery stuff, because you get to see Helena and her dad get back together in the end." She wrinkles her nose again. "Oh. Ohhhhh. That's super weird, too."

"It works, though," Jess insists. "Right?"

"You're so messed up, dude," April says, laughing. "My dad's never gonna understand this book."

"Right, okay," Chris says, "so you like it, you understand it, that's good. What's the main thing that pissed you off about it? Be honest. Jess can take it." Jess rolls his eyes.

"Um," April says, biting her lip. "I think...did you mean to keep using the British spelling of 'judgment'? That really threw me off, considering how many times you use the word."

Jess turns to look at Chris, who has her face in her hands. "Shut up," she says. "Not a word."

"What?" April asks.

"Nothing," says Jess, grinning. "You're my favorite person in the whole world. You know that?"

"Oh," says April, nonplussed. "Well, thanks!"

"You're welcome," says Jess.

* * *

"Look," says Chris, face down on the floor of Jess' office. "If you end on a line of dialogue then it's weird. It's unfinished. It's lazy. It makes the reader expect more, something to end the conversation - "

"The conversation is supposed to be left hanging, that's the fucking point! It's an unfinished conversation!"

"It's heavy handed!" Chris yells into the carpet. "We already know that Chris is fucking dead, you don't need to remind us!"

"You're still just pissed off that I named him Chris."

"It feels like you're rubbing it in now," Chris whines. "Come on. The last voicemail Helena has from him? She just _happens_ to find it in the last chapter?"

"You think I should make it a time skip instead?" Jess asks, frowning. "Okay, no. Okay. If I write it like a conversation, like an actual conversation? When he shows up to her dorm right before he jumps. From Helena's perspective, though, and - yes, okay, yes, we open on him jumping, and end right before he jumps! That's it. It's a closed loop!"

"Ugh," Chris says.

"What? What's your problem?"

"I will give you a million dollars if you change his name to something other than Chris," says Chris.

"Pass," says Jess.

"Come on! Please?"

"You like it," Jess goads. "You think it's _congruous_."

Chris mumbles something into the carpet, too quiet to actually hear. Jess opens up the latest draft and starts typing, in as smug of a manner as he can.

"Fine," she says, after a minute. "Fine. It's good. Okay? It's in good shape."

"I know," Jess says.

"And if you appreciated my help with this at all, you'd change the stupid brother's name," Chris says, climbing to her feet with a groan. Her hair is a tangled mess, piled on top of her head, and there's rug burn on her cheek.

"Not happening," Jess says.

"I need a cigarette," Chris says forlornly. She picks up her purse, digging through it listlessly. "Aw, shit."

"Boy Chris keeps some in his office," Jess says absently, distracted by the draft. "Bottom left drawer."

"Thanks," Chris says.

"You too," Jess replies. "Thanks, I mean."

Chris glares at him. "Whatever," she says, and strides out. Jess waits, watching the door, and thirty seconds later she strides back in, grabbing her purse from the chair. "You owe me."

"Whatever," Jess says.


	14. Chapter 14

_Here come the wedding chapters! I want you guys to know about how much fun I'm having with this story, which has spiraled out of my control: a lot. A lot of fun. Thanks for the support so far! I'm gonna keep writing until I run out of life events to discuss, or until my laptop dies. Whichever comes first._

* * *

The theory behind the wedding was "small and simple," so of course it quickly became neither of those things. Jess is asked (ordered) to produce Willa no later than eleven AM on Saturday, with two changes of clothes, preferably awake and in a good mood. He's also not allowed to feed her lunch.

"The wedding is Sunday night," Jess says.

"Right," says Lorelai.

"So," he says.

"Sooo...? What?" Lorelai says blankly. Luke smirks at him, from the other side of the dinner table.

Jess sighs. "Nothing."

Willa, to her credit, seems remarkably genial about the entire thing, which is probably a side effect of her intense devotion to Lorelai. Jess is disgruntled, but not surprised; Lorelai is one of those people who is constantly surrounded by a tornado of chaos, and Willa slides right in effortlessly, like she was born for it.

"Are you jealous?" Rory teases. "Afraid she'll like my mom better than you?"

"I don't have any unrealistic expectations as far as her opinions go, okay," Jess says wearily. "She likes prog rock."

Rory chokes on her coffee, snorting inelegantly.

"It's Chris' fault."

"You need to introduce her to Zack and Lane," Rory tells him.

Jess grimaces. "Right, just what I need. Just surround her with people that she'll grow up thinking are cooler than me."

"Of course she's gonna think they're cooler than you, they're not her dad."

"I'm gonna be a cool dad," Jess protests.

Rory snorts.

"I am!"

"Jess, you nearly had a heart attack when your mom wanted to take her horseback riding."

"Who takes a toddler horseback riding?" Jess asks the universe. "Who even does that?"

Rory raises an eyebrow. "Cool dads," she says.

"Shit," says Jess.

* * *

Cool dad or not, Jess submits to the weekend the way one submits to the inevitability of death. On Saturday, he sees Willa only in brief glimpses around town whenever Sookie, Rory, and Lorelai come up for a breath of fresh air or a cup of coffee or a couple hundred pounds of Chinese takeout from Al's. Jess spends most of it manning the diner, since Luke and Lane are too busy, and Cesar has fucked off to Miami. It's...surreal, to say the least.

"Well look at you, honey!" Babette says. She looks exactly the same. Literally the only thing that's different is her hair, which has been bleached to a level Jess previously thought impossible, for real, human hair. "Someone grew up! Oh, it's good to see you, Jess! You in town for the wedding? Helping Luke out, huh? That's real nice of ya!"

"Yes," Jess says, staring at her hair. It's bright white. Literally no pigment whatsoever. "Good to, uh. See you too. I guess."

"I heard you had a daughter!" Babette exclaims. "Lorelai showed me pictures. Oh, she is so cute, I just wanted to eat her up!"

"Please don't," Jess says.

Babette cackles. "You haven't changed a bit, have you? Well, I'm happy for you. Congrats, sugar." She leans in, motioning for Jess to bend down slightly to conspire with her. "I always liked you, you know. I knew you'd get outta here and do something fun with your life."

"Uh," says Jess, "thanks?"

"I heard you wrote a book, too," Babette says. "Taylor banned it, you know."

Jess chokes slightly. "Taylor...banned my book?"

"Oh yeah, wrote it into the town law and everything. The bookstore isn't allowed to carry it. He said it was filth." Babette winks. "He was right. Good job on that sex scene."

"Ookay," Jess says, and takes a giant step back. "Appreciate that. I'll bring you some coffee."

"Oh thanks honey - I drink decaf now. Better for the ticker."

"Right," Jess says, and escapes. God, small towns.

Saturday night is spent drinking beer with Luke in the now-empty apartment above the diner, where both of them have been asked (ordered) to sleep. Lorelai had, apparently, passed on a bachelorette party, and instead is enjoying a Lifetime Original Movie marathon with Rory, Sookie, and April, and as such, they've both been ousted from the house.

("How many bachelorette parties have I had now?" Lorelai asks.

"At least two," Rory says, thinking hard. "But I - actually I can't remember. Did you have one for, you know, the first time with Luke?"

"Yes! We went to the drag club, remember?"

"No, that one was for Max."

"Oh." Lorelai squints down into her coffee cup. "I forgot. Oh my God, that's so sad. Isn't that sad? I am the saddest, weirdest bride who ever lived."

"Yikes," Jess agrees.)

"Does she always snore like that?" Luke asks.

Willa, who never turns down an opportunity to take advantage of comedic timing, snorts loudly in her sleep. Luke winces.

"That can't be healthy."

"Her pediatrician says it's because of her tonsils."

"Her tonsils?" Luke asks, incredulous. "What's wrong with her tonsils?"

"They're enlarged," Jess says. Luke looks mildly horrified. "It's pretty common. Apparently."

"Well, can you, you know, cut 'em out?"

"What, like with a Swiss army knife?"

Luke rolls his eyes. "Don't be a smart ass."

"It's not a big deal, Luke," Jess says, shaking his head in amusement. "Lots of kids have it. It doesn't affect her breathing at all, so it's not dangerous. It's just, you know. A thing. She'll grow out of it."

"So her tonsils are just - abnormally large, and that's it? You don't do anything?"

"They're not abnormally large, they're just mildly large."

"Oh, well if it's just mild," Luke drawls, shaking his head at his beer.

"You gotta learn how to relax, Uncle Luke."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your mom told me about the horseback riding thing," Luke says.

Jess groans. "You know what's crazy is putting a two-year-old on a wild animal ten times her size. That's crazy. Not me - I was not the crazy one in that argument."

"I think it was a pony ride, Jess. And I'm pretty sure they're not wild."

"Ten times her size," Jess says, and takes a definitive drink of beer. Luke rolls his eyes, but thankfully, takes the hint. "So. You nervous?"

"Nope," says Luke.

"She probably won't leave you at the altar or anything," Jess says.

"Oh, shut up," Luke says, but his scowl isn't all that convincing.

Jess smirks at him. "You know what they say - third time's the charm."

"This is only the second time."

"Oh," Jess says heavily. "Well, uh. Shit. Never mind." He frowns exaggeratedly. "No - I'm sure it's fine. Just a superstition."

"You're hilarious," Luke says dryly. "Really."

"Maybe you guys should've gotten one of those prenups," Jess says. "Just to be on the safe side."

"Jess."

"Hey, I like Lorelai! I do, really. I'm just saying, you have to be practical about it, that's all."

"You're such a dumbass," Luke says fondly.

Jess shrugs, and finishes his beer. "Well, that's my thing."

Luke shakes his head, scoffing, and reaches out to clap Jess on the shoulder. Jess leans into it for precisely three seconds, and then pulls away to get another beer.

"This shit will kill you, Luke," he says, grimacing at the selection in the fridge. "Bud Light? With lime?"

"You're an adult now," Luke says mercilessly. "Of legal age. And there are at least three places in this town where you can buy your own damn alcohol."

"I was working all day," Jess says. "At your diner."

"Yeah," Luke says, and laughs. "I saw you wearing the apron again. Took me back to the good old days."

Jess rolls his eyes. "Yeah, full of fond memories."

Luke laughs again, shaking his head. He's got a certain look on his face, the look he'd get whenever Jess did something he approved of. Jess both loathes and craves that look. "You were the talk of the town this weekend. It shut everybody up about the stupid betting pool for at least three hours. Like a damn miracle."

"Great," Jess drawls. "Glad to be of service."

"You sure you don't have a date coming for tomorrow? Because I think Babette would be willing to fill in. She had plenty to say about ya."

Jess grimaces. "I hate this place."

"I know," Luke says, chortling. He reaches out and claps Jess' shoulder again, and because it's his wedding, because it's his third beer, Jess lets it stay for five seconds, this time. "It's alright."

"Yeah, well." Jess kicks his leg. "You didn't tell me Taylor banned my book."

"I wanted it to be a fun surprise," Luke says. "Were you surprised?"

"That's one word for it."

"Good," Luke says with a grin, and drinks his beer.


	15. Chapter 15

Lorelai's got some weird thing about snow, so the wedding is on the deck of the Inn at sunset, despite the fact that it's cold enough to freeze your shadow to the ground. At least they put up space heaters, mindful of how many infants and elderly people are in the crowd, but Kirk (who is performing the ceremony, for some bizarre reason that Jess doesn't want to know) still looks like he's about to commit seppuku in protest.

Willa, a child of summer, is utterly uninterested in doing anything but curling into the lapels of Jess' coat and waiting for this to be over, so he carries her down the aisle. She has her little basket of flower petals too, but she only takes one handful, and it stays clenched in her hand until she finally remembers to throw it - straight into the face of Taylor Doose, who is of course sitting in the very front row. Jess has never been prouder of her than he is in that moment.

Luke's grinning like a madman when they reach the altar, and leans in to give Willa a kiss. She smacks him in the face with her basket. Fondly, Jess assumes.

"That was for luck," Jess tells him, just as the music starts. Luke just keeps grinning, straightening his shoulders and turning his face to the open door.

Lorelai is bare-shouldered and holding a gigantic bunch of cheap, plastic poinsettias, and she and Luke both keep breaking into fits of laughter throughout the entire ceremony, which only gets worse the more flustered and annoyed Kirk gets (he has to start the vows over twice, because he loses his place). Jess stands stoically next to a tuxedo'd Lane and tries not to make eye contact with Rory, who is snorting into her mother's bouquet and making faces at him and Willa. Lane keeps poking him, every time Rory pulls off a particularly good one.

The entire crowd is on the brink of losing it by the time Kirk finally gets to the end, clenching his fists and glaring at the couple. "I now pronounce you man and bride," Kirk says, "you may kiss the wife." He frowns. "Wait, I meant - the other way around," he says quickly, but Luke and Lorelai are already going at it like they're teenagers instead of the middle-aged divorcees they are, so nobody really hears him.

Willa perks up a little as everyone starts clapping and laughing, and Jess steps back, barely edging out of the way of T.J., who practically throws himself into Luke's arms the minute he and Lorelai break the kiss. Somebody wolf-whistles in the crowd; Jess suspects it was his mother.

Lorelai, hugging Rory and crying, turns to the crowd and yells, "somebody owes me three hundred bucks!" Luke, finally extracting himself from T.J., rolls his eyes dramatically, and Kirk seems to be trying to subtly escape, inching his way through the wedding party and back towards the crowd. Rory, seeing this, instantly grabs his jacket and pulls him back, and Jess winces as the chaos starts to snowball downhill from there, Lorelai cackling on the sidelines as Luke gestures angrily.

In the eye of the hurricane, Lane elbows Jess, grinning. "Beautiful ceremony, huh?"

Willa snuggles deeper into Jess' coat, for once uninterested in pandemonium, and Jess shrugs. "Coulda been worse," he says.

* * *

In a stroke of profound wisdom and business savvy, the bar is not open. Jess pays six dollars ( _six dollars!_ ) for a glass of red wine and spends the reception arguing about his book with Paris Gellar, who seems to have finally grown into her personality as a fire-breathing dragon with the addition of a pixie haircut and a gigantic engagement ring.

"She's cute," Paris finally says, off-hand, right after she finishes eviscerating Jess' characterization. Apparently she's finally noticed that there is a child on Jess' lap, happily munching on Sookie's fancy kid-version of hor d'oeuvres. "Where'd you get her?"

"Target," Jess says. "Picked her up on discount."

Paris hums, reaching out and tentatively patting Willa on the head, like a cat. "Hello," she says formally. "My name is Paris. I knew your father in high school."

"Hi," Willa says. It's a new word, one of her favorites.

Paris looks mildly startled that Willa can command the power of speech. "Hi," she says, tilting her head at Willa curiously. "Did you enjoy the wedding?"

Willa ignores her, picking up another cracker and cramming it in her mouth.

"Are you a guest of the bride or the groom?"

Willa throws her half-eaten cracker back on the plate and selects a piece of weirdly spiced chicken, instead.

"Oh," Paris says, frowning. "I thought she could talk."

"You're an only child, aren't you," Jess says.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Never mind," Jess tells her, and finishes his wine.

Some genius apparently had the idea to use a cordless microphone for the speeches, which means that it quickly is thrown to the mercy of the crowd, who steps up to the challenge with relish. T.J. will hold the record for longest, saddest speech ever in the history of weddings, probably, and the weirdest comes from some guy that nobody's ever seen before, who apparently showed up with an invitation addressed to "River Phoenix" and keeps telling everyone he and Lorelai went to high school together. Lorelai swears she's never seen him before in her life.

Jess keeps making ominous eye contact with Luke as the mic gets closer and closer, and the agitated looks he gets in return are worth all the effort to keep a straight face. Jess finally snags the microphone from a dangerously tipsy Michel, and looks Luke straight in the eye as he slowly and deliberately hands it over to Paris. Luke deflates in relief, like somebody's popped him like an angry balloon.

("That was my wedding present," Jess tells him later. Luke shoves him into a potted plant.)

Rory and April's speeches are last and make everybody cry, so somebody hurriedly turns on some music, and Luke and Lorelai shuffle their way through a weird, 80s pop song that nobody knows the words to. The second dance belongs to Liz and T.J., who join them on the floor and perform some kind of coordinated partner-switch routine that Luke seems really confused about, and after that it's a free for all.

Jess has worked out a plan for this; he dances once with Rory, who grimaces dramatically throughout, and another with Lorelai, who gives him shit the _entire time_ under her breath, and then proceeds to go "ouch!" loudly and limp back to her table. Nobody else asks Jess to dance.

"You're welcome," Rory says pointedly, plopping down at his table and immediately slipping out of her heels. "Just so you know, if any of our parents get married again, you're not getting a repeat performance. This was a one time gift, on the day of my mothah's weddin'."

Jess rolls his eyes at her impression, which hasn't improved at all in the intervening years since he's last heard it. "You're a hero and a scholar, Godfather."

"Yeah." Rory grins at Willa. "And how are you doin', Willa?"

Willa just slumps against Jess' chest, exhausted by the day and also probably mildly traumatized by all of the people who keep coming up to coo and make faces at her.

"Tired, huh?" Rory says sympathetically. "I know the feeling."

"I'm gonna have to take off pretty quick here," Jess says apologetically. "We've got maybe twenty minutes before she starts to lose her shit."

"I'll hold her while you say goodbye," Rory offers eagerly, already extending her arms to Willa. She smiles sunnily as Willa slumps her way into her lap instead. "Go on, I'll be right here."

"If she starts yelling at you, just yell back," Jess advises. Rory waves him off distractedly.

Luke is involved in what looks like a painfully intense conversation with April, so Jess snags Lorelai's arm instead. She turns around and hugs him, so she's definitely drunk. Jess endures it.

"Leavin?" she asks, and laughs at the look on his face, after she releases him from the hug.

"Places to go, people to see, you know how it is," Jess says. Lorelai nods sagely. "Listen, tell Luke..."

"Yeah," Lorelai says.

"And you..." Jess rubs the back of his neck, wincing.

"Yeah," Lorelai says, grinning. "I got it. We both got it, you know? Get outta here, kid."

Jess gives her a smile and a shrug, and escapes, and she laughs at him again as he leaves. Well, it's her wedding day, Jess figures. He'll let her have that one.

* * *

Rory walks them home, soothing Willa as she walks with surprising grace and dexterity, for somebody who has very little exposure to children on a daily basis. She seems offended when Jess points that out, indignantly telling him about a few years of afternoons spent babysitting her half-sister. Jess didn't even know she _had_ a half-sister.

"Well," Rory says, "she's my dad's kid with this woman he sort of left my mom for, and then she left him and Gigi, and then he and my mom got married and that was a whole other _thing_ \- "

"Okay," Jess interrupts, "I get it."

Rory laughs. She's clearly a little drunk too, a sight that Jess never thought he'd actually see. He always thought of Rory as a bit of a prude when it came to that sort of thing, which was maybe a little unfair. But she did sort of act like it, back in high school. "She's cute. She's in junior high now, which is so weird. I don't see her much, but we email back and forth."

"Doula's turning six in a couple months," Jess says, shaking his head.

"God," Rory says emphatically. "I know."

They both look down at Willa, who is just hanging out in Rory's grip, looking annoyed and cold.

"It's a weird life, man," says Rory.

"No shit," Jess says.

Jess has the diner apartment to himself tonight, and Rory helps him put Willa down into one of the beds, repurposed to be toddler-proof. She passes out the second her head hits the pillow, utterly wiped. Jess runs a careful hand over her hair, watching her little hands clench instinctively in her sleep for a moment. She does that a lot; Jess isn't sure what it means, but he likes to think she's reaching out for him.

Rory's drinking water at the sink in the kitchen, her heels abandoned by the door. Her hair's long nowadays, down to the middle of her back, and in her bridesmaid dress she looks like she's seventeen again, at a different wedding, on a different day. Jess feels annoyed, and sad, and a little out of breath.

"No Logan tonight, huh," he says, just to be a jerk. The best way to kick himself in the ass is to be one, he's found.

"Broke up," Rory says nonchalantly, but her shoulders tense. She spins around and shrugs, still holding her glass of water. "For good this time, I think."

Jess sits down at the table, and very carefully does not have an opinion on that.

"What about you?" Rory seems to sense the danger in the question as soon as it's out of her mouth, a weird look passing over her face. "Never mind, please don't answer that."

Jess doesn't. "I'm sorry," he says, instead. "About Logan, I mean."

"No, you're not," Rory says with a snort. She pauses. "And neither am I."

"Fair enough," Jess says.

Rory turns back around to refill her water glass, and then fills up a second one for Jess, sliding it over to him across the table. She takes the same chair Luke always sits in. A strange silence hangs, for a long moment. Jess drinks some water to try and clear it away, but it doesn't work.

"I'm moving," Rory finally says. "To Los Angeles."

Jess stares at her, caught in intense, sudden disgust. "Why?"

She laughs. "I got a job offer."

"In Los Angeles?"

"It's CNN," Rory says. "I'd hoped to work out of the New York office, but...it's an on-air position, and their studios are in L.A., so..."

"On-air?" Jess asks. He blinks at her. "You mean, on television?"

Rory nods, her face glowing with a sort of muted pride. Jess can't help but smile at her, and a matching one breaks out on her face, slowly growing in intensity.

"It's still just a minor correspondence position," Rory says, "more like, a consultant? It's a new show they're putting together, kind of like an updated Meet the Press, and they only want me for this one specific segment at the end that they'll play over the credits, but - I get to write my own scripts, and there's room to advance, and if I can start building an audience..."

"Holy shit," Jess says, "Rory, holy shit."

"I know," she says, and laughs again. "It's - yeah. Kind of a dream come true."

"That's," Jess says, at a loss for words, "I mean. That's incredible."

"I haven't told everybody yet," Rory says, blushing a little. "Mom knows of course, and my grandparents. And Luke. But I didn't want to steal the wedding thunder."

"Rory," Jess says, reaching out despite himself. Rory takes his hand and squeezes it, ducking her head so that her hair falls across her face. He laughs, incredulously, and squeezes back.

"Logan didn't want to come with me," she says. "It's - you know. We were kind of dragging it out, anyway. I thought after all this time apart, we could maybe start over fresh, but - that never works. I knew better, but I still...hoped."

"Yeah," Jess says. They're still holding hands, which could get weird pretty fast, but he doesn't want to let go yet. "I know the feeling."

Rory tilts her head up again, shaking her bangs out of her eyes. "Yeah, well," she says, visibly shaking off the melancholy. "I just hope you were being a cynical New Yorker when you told me how horrible L.A. was."

"L.A. is horrible, and don't act like you're not just as East Coast as I am," Jess says. "But hey. Anything for a dream job."

"Is that why you moved to Philly?"

"Hey now," Jess says, and Rory laughs. "Philly's not so bad."

"Nah," Rory agrees, and they sit there for another long moment, holding hands and grinning.

Jess pulls back first. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Rory's eyes scrunch up as she smiles, and for the first time tonight, Jess starts to notice the differences - the little lines around her eyes, the jawline that's a little more pronounced. Her arms have a bit of muscle to them now, and there's a red, angry scar on her collarbone that's probably from that car accident last year that scared the shit out of everybody. She's not seventeen anymore. Neither of them are. "Well, I'm sober enough to walk back now, I think. Whataya say, Dodger - walk me to the door?"

"Sure," Jess says, still out of breath. Like he could ever say no.

* * *

Rory leaves with a careful hug and another smile, and it's not until she's halfway down the street that Jess realizes he'd forgotten to tell her about his new book.

Well, he figures, she's got enough on her plate. He goes back upstairs, laughing at the image of her reading it on a beach, wearing corduroy pants and a blazer. She's gonna hate the ending, he thinks, strangely at peace with it. He wrote Rory a book already, with an ending tailored just to her taste. This new one - this one's for him.

Willa's snoring again when he slips back into the apartment, and Jess goes over to check on her, just to be neurotic. There're piles of boxes and shit everywhere, since Luke now uses this place for storage (and the occasional sleepover, when April manages to coax the keys out of him), and next to the bed, there's that old record player of Jess', that he'd left behind when he moved out. Next to it is a box with a couple of his old books spilling out of it, and Jess picks up the top one - a battered copy of Everything is Illuminated - and flicks through it, seeing his own teenage scrawl in the margins. Sliding down onto the floor next to Willa's bed, Jess starts reading his own notes, shaking his head at himself. He really was an arrogant dipshit, is the thing.

His younger self had underlined a passage, one that Jess in the present has forgotten about. "'This is love, she thought,'" Jess reads, out loud. Willa, on the bed above his head, snores along softly. "'Isn't it? When you notice someone's absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?'"

In the margins, in blue ballpoint pen, is written: _fuck you_. Jess muffles his laugh into the bed skirt.

"Get over it," Jess tells himself, and tosses the book away. Definitely time for bed, he thinks.

* * *

 _Quote belongs to Jonathan Safran Foer, obviously. Great book, by the way_


	16. Chapter 16

One of the worst aspects of Jess' job is the parties, which are sadly kind of essential to the smooth operation of their business. Everyone wants to be schmoozed, especially artists, and especially rich people who pay for art, and writing isn't really an exception to that cultural standard as much as Jess would like to believe otherwise. Thankfully the addition of Girl Chris to their motley band of publishers (on a contentious, part-time basis, anyway) has made the entire process a lot smoother. And it's not because she's a girl - it's because she's fucking _mean_. (Jess doesn't know what the fuck Matt was on when he kept insisting that she was "really nice, you guys, honestly" when he'd first met her.)

"Can you pry your lips off your own ass for like two seconds and focus? Like Jesus Christ, nobody's gonna buy your book if you spend the entire time making out with it," Chris will say. Everyone else in the room will arrange their faces to look shocked and offended, and the author will bluster and stammer and then eventually wilt beneath her stare, shut up, and then, finally, start listening to Matthew's "How Not to be an Asshole" crash course lesson, and all in all, everybody has less headaches.

Since Jess himself occasionally moonlights as one of their asshole authors, he tends to have a little more sympathy for them than the Chrises, especially after the round of parties they put him through for the second book. Jess would really, really like to think that the glowing reviews on his back cover are because it's actually good, and not because of those fancy-ass gift baskets Matt sends out with the party invitations, but he can't ever be one hundred percent sure. They have like, wine and chocolate in them, for fuck's sake.

The worst part isn't the critics though, who are usually reasonably smart and sane - it's the rich people they have to invite to stay hip and relevant, of course, who are always just terrible, no matter what. Jess has never enjoyed a friendly relationship with rich people, but at least when he was a kid he could mouth off or leave the room. Now he's, like, an adult or whatever, and has to stand there and smile and listen as they tell him that they really liked his book, you know, but why didn't he write about this completely different topic instead, isn't that much more interesting? Also the ending was bad. No, they can't tell him why, they just didn't like it. They had a spiritual reaction to it. Isn't that deep?

Sometimes the worst thing you can do to a writer is get them published.

"Oh you know, I've always wondered about this," says a woman in a blue dress, whose name Jess instantly forgot, two seconds she told him what it was, "this little legal custody certificate thing? Is that an art piece?"

Most people do tend to think it's some kind of avant-garde modern art thing, which isn't all that ridiculous of an assumption, considering how much avant-garde modern art shit that Matthew has put up around the shop. "No," Jess says with a sigh. He's not allowed to lie to people about it anymore, not since he told that woman from the Times that it was Matthew's, and she wrote a column about it. "It's the custody agreement I was awarded for my daughter."

If she thinks that it's strange to have that sort of thing framed and hung on the wall of your publishing office, she doesn't show it. "Oh, you have a daughter? That's wonderful! What's her name?"

"Willa," Jess says, resigned to having this conversation now. "She's two."

"Aw," the woman goes, apparently overwhelmed by the knowledge that two-year-old children exist in the world. "My son is about that age, too! It goes by so quickly, doesn't it?"

Jess smiles, and nods.

"How many words does she have?" the woman asks.

Jess blinks at her for a second, but she just looks at him expectantly, as if that wasn't a completely nonsense question. "Uh," he says, "what do you mean?"

"Words, you know, how many words does she know?" she clarifies. "Aiden has about seventy-five right now, but he picks up new ones so quickly, and I'm not always around to hear the new ones. I know, I know," she says, pausing to laugh, "it's so neurotic to actually keep a list, but I just can't help it, you know? It's the accountant in me."

"Willa, uh, talks," Jess says, frowning, "some. She talks some. I don't, uh, keep track or anything."

"Well." She waves her hand dismissively. "Because you're not a neurotic weirdo like me, obviously! As long as she's progressing, that's fine. Everybody goes at their own pace."

"Right," Jess says.

"What preschools are you looking at?"

"Uh," says Jess.

The woman's face goes sympathetic, in a sort of condescending kind of way. "Her mother is probably is taking the lead on that, huh?"

"My cell phone is ringing," Jess says desperately, pulling it out of his pocket. "Oh, wow, super important call, so sorry. Enjoy the party."

"Good luck," she calls after him. Jess pretends not to hear her.

* * *

"Has Willa said any new words, when she's with you guys?" Jess asks.

"Huh?" says Boy Chris. Girl Chris, who is hunched over smoking a cigarette with her head outside of the window, turns to give him a weird look. "She talks to us, if that's what you mean."

"No, I mean," Jess says, and grabs a half-empty bottle of wine from an abandoned serving tray, " _new_ words. Like is she _progressing_ , is what I need to know."

"Are you drunk?" asks Girl Chris.

"No," Jess says, and swigs the wine.

"I'm pretty sure I heard her say 'Tolstoy' the other day," Boy Chris offers. "But it might have been 'Bed Stuy.'"

Jess flops down in a chair with his wine. "I can't remember the last time she said a new word. Not one that she doesn't already know, anyway."

"Are you freaking out again?" asks Girl Chris. "Is that what's happening, here?"

"I don't freak out."

"Dude, you freak out all the time," says Boy Chris. "Your personality is like a fifty-fifty split between Dean Moriarty and that girl from Rebecca who thinks her house is trying to kill her."

"Shut the fuck up," Jess says, "don't try to act like you actually read books."

Boy Chris makes his offended face, but since he doesn't actually read books, he can't really argue that point. "What's your damage, man?"

"I'm not damaged, I'm just trying to think of the last time Willa said a new word."

"She repeats words a lot," Girl Chris says, throwing out her cigarette. She pulls her head back inside and shuts the window, shaking the snow out of her hair. "Like if we're all sitting around talking, she's usually in the middle listening, and then she'll take a bunch of the words she heard and repeat them. I don't know if she actually understands them, though, or if she's just saying them."

"She _understands_ them," Jess says confidently. He knows she understands most of what people say, because he sees her respond to it. Like if someone is talking about the weather, she'll glance out the window. If they're discussing something in the room, like an object or a person, she'll turn her head to look at whatever it is - that kind of thing. So, she understands. "But there's a difference between understanding language and using it, right? Like if she can listen and understand things, that's one thing. But actually communicating is like the next step, don't you think? Taking what she knows and making the logical connection into actually applying it. When she does the repeating words thing - that's not communicating. She's just saying them because she likes the sounds."

"She communicates," Boy Chris says. "She's got some rad hand gestures."

Jess sighs and drinks some more of his wine.

"Relax, Jess," Girl Chris says. She sounds brisk, and a little dismissive, but Jess knows her well enough at this point to recognize that she doesn't mean to be. "My sister didn't start talking until she was five. Not all kids are the same."

"Plus she's only two," Boy Chris says. "And she does talk." He makes an 'ehh' face, swinging his head side to side. "Maybe not as much as most kids, but that could just be her personality. It's too soon to tell."

"Sure," Jess says, and takes another drink.

Girl Chris frowns, eyeing Jess like he's a live grenade that's just been lobbed through their window. "He's freaking out."

Jess keeps chugging his wine.

"Stop freaking out," Boy Chris says sternly.

"Okay," says Jess.

"I mean it," Boy Chris continues. "She's fine. She'll be fine. She's _fine_."

"Is there more wine left?" Jess asks.

* * *

"Did you _talk_ as a kid?" Liz asks. "What do you mean, did you talk? Of course you talked."

"No I mean," Jess says, already regretting this, "when did I start talking?"

"Oh, um," says Liz, "hm. Well, the normal time."

"The normal time," Jess repeats flatly.

"Yeah, you know. It was all normal. You did everything the way babies are supposed to do it."

Jess sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't really babble much," Liz offers. "You know that thing babies do, where they make up their own words? You didn't do that. You made sounds, but you didn't actually, like, say any words, unless they were real ones."

"Okay," Jess says. "That's - uh. Okay."

"What's this about, hon?"

"Nothing," Jess says, just as something crashes on her side of the phone line, and she curses in his ear, sudden and loud. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, damn it, T.J. fell off the roof again," Liz says. "Listen, can I call you back in like an hour?"

"I thought T.J. wasn't allowed on roofs anymore."

"It's like trying to tell a cat not to chase mice," Liz says, sounding ridiculously affectionate. Jess grimaces. "Listen, I'll call you back and we'll talk more - "

"No, it's fine, never mind," Jess tells her. "Not a big deal."

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yeah," Jess says.

* * *

"Well, Rory was talking in full sentences by the time she was two," Luke says. Jess groans out loud. "You, on the other hand - you were a quiet kid, you know. At least when I was around."

"Maybe I just didn't like you," Jess says.

"Are you kidding? You loved me," Luke boasts. "I always brought a bunch of those chocolate egg things that you liked."

"So you bribed me."

"Well, yeah," Luke says, unapologetic. "Are you freaking out about something?"

"No," Jess says. "So when you say I was quiet, what does that mean exactly, like did I just not talk at all?"

"Just, quiet," Luke says. He sounds uncomfortable. "I only visited a couple times a year, you know. Your mom and I weren't exactly - well - "

"Whatever, Luke, that's not what this is about," Jess says impatiently. "All she told me is that I was 'normal,' whatever the fuck that means. And it's not like I'm gonna call Jimmy up and ask him."

"You are freaking out about something," Luke says.

"I am not freaking out!"

"Kids go at their own pace, Jess, I'm sure Willa is fine," Luke says.

Jess presses his head back against the couch, glaring at the ceiling. "Would you just - okay, when did I start talking? Just answer that question for me please. That is literally the only thing I need from you right now."

Luke huffs and puffs, sounding eerily similar to the animated dragon that was in the movie Jess and Willa watched last night. "Well, lemme think. Okay. You were...I guess you were about four years old. Yeah - I remember now, you were four, because that was the first time Liz threw you an actual birthday party. I came up for that, and then a few weeks later Liz called me and said you were talking."

"I didn't learn how to talk until I was four?" Jess asks. "Isn't that kind of late?"

"Well, you'd say certain words. You said 'Mama,' and 'no' - you said 'no' a lot, actually," Luke says, sounding gruffly fond. "But if you couldn't say something in three words or less, you just wouldn't say it. Until you were about four, and then out of nowhere I guess you just started, you know, talking like a normal kid."

"Yeah but like - was it typical four-year-old talking, or did I just...stall somewhere and then pick up where I left off?"

"I don't know," Luke says. "Like I said, I only saw you a couple times a year. Ask your mom."

"I did ask her, and you know what she's like. She doesn't remember details."

"Ask her again! She's your mom, Jess, I'm sure she has stories, if that's what you're after."

It isn't. "I'm not trying to take a trip down memory lane here, Luke, I just need to know what my actual development was like, and I doubt Liz is going to be any more helpful than 'oh, you were normal.'"

"You don't give her enough credit."

"She didn't even remember if she kept me up to date on vaccinations," Jess exclaims in frustration. "I had to track down my old doctor just so I could find out if I was going to give Willa the measles."

"Well, that's ridiculous, I'm sure she took care of all that kind of stuff," Luke says, but he sounds kind of hesitant, like he doesn't really believe it.

"He was retired, Luke," Jess says flatly. "I had to go to his _house_. Like a _stalker_."

"You are totally freaking out," Luke says triumphantly. "I knew you'd be like this. I knew you were turning into this kind of parent."

"Shut up," says Jess.

"You need to learn how to _relax_ , Jess," Luke says, in an eerily-accurate impression of Jess' own voice.

Jess hangs up on him. Typical, he thinks.

* * *

"You're really worried about this, aren't you," says Girl Chris.

Jess doesn't answer, watching Willa run in lopsided circles in the grass, chasing after pigeons. He'd tried, at first, to explain to her how many diseases they carried, but then realized halfway through that he sounded like the paranoid weirdo everyone thought he was, and stopped. If she actually catches one though, all bets are off, he promises himself.

Chris blows her bangs out of her face, rolling her eyes. Underneath her coat, she's still in her work uniform, which is this garish orange apron over a black t-shirt. Jess still can't really picture her in that context - working at a kids' science museum. What the hell do they even let her do? She can't even make it through a single conversation without either cursing or insulting somebody. "You're such a freak."

Case in point. "Sue me for being worried about my kid."

Chris shakes her head, leaning her arm back against the park bench. "You're gonna drive yourself fucking crazy."

Jess gives her a dirty look. "It's not just the talking thing, okay? I know she'll be fine on the talking. I know that."

"Okay," Chris says, elongating the vowel to make it sound as condescending as possible. "Then what else is it?"

"It's," Jess says, and has to pause to try and articulate what he means. "It's - her thought process. The way she thinks about things." Chris doesn't say anything, but she tilts her chin up and looks a little less bored, which Jess takes as a good sign. "You know that little toy radio that Matthew gave her? The one that automatically plays a song when you wave your hand in front of it?"

"Yeah, she loves that thing," Chris says.

"Yeah, well," Jess says, looking back over at Willa. She's lost her hat, at some point, which is like the third time this week. At least twenty percent of Jess' income goes into keeping Willa in hats. "It broke the other day, while Hartfield was watching her. It wouldn't stop playing the song, so Hartfield took the batteries out. And Willa - she's seen me do that before, with her other toys."

"Okay," Chris says, eyebrows furrowed.

"And, Hartfield has a dog now," Jess says. "One of those annoying little ones that bark all the time. And last night, she brought the thing up with her to play with Willa, and it wouldn't stop barking. Willa got pretty annoyed with it, pretty quickly, and so she started like...I don't know, manhandling it."

"She manhandled a dog?" Chris says, mouth twitching.

Jess shakes his head, resisting the urge to smile a little himself. It had been funny. "Yeah, like, she picked the thing up and started turning it around, like looking at its stomach, behind its ears, pulling at its fur. We didn't know what the fuck she was trying to do - it was bizarre."

"She didn't hurt it, did she?"

"No, she was nice to it," Jess says. "But eventually we realized - she was looking for the dog's batteries, Chris. She wanted it to stop barking, so she tried to take its batteries out."

Chris bursts out laughing, throwing her head back in abandon.

"Yeah, okay, it's funny," Jess says indulgently. "It's cute, it's funny. But like - she knows the difference between a toy dog and a real dog. She _knows_ , because she understands that one is alive and the other isn't. She's not mean to the dog, even when she was picking it up she was still obviously trying to be gentle. She knows it's alive. She's rough with her toys, because she knows they're not."

"Jess," Chris starts, still laughing, "that's - it's kid logic. It's not - "

"She understands what batteries are too, because she brings them to me from the kitchen sometimes, when her toys need new ones," Jess insists. "Don't - listen, don't look at me like I'm overreacting. I'm not. I know my daughter, I'm not overreacting."

"Yeah, okay, I'm listening to you, man," Chris says, holding out her hands. "Honest."

"It's not the only example," Jess says, shaking his head. "Her logic is like - it skips steps, sometimes. Like when she's solving problems - most people go from A to B to C, and it's like Willa will go from A to D, and then not even notice that B and C are there."

"She'll learn that," Chris insists. "She's so young still, Jess."

"That's just it - she's already learned it. She just, like, ignores it." Jess shakes his head, looking back at Willa. She's still running, but not after pigeons now - she's looking up at the air, watching something in the sky. Whatever she's seeing up there, it's making her smile. "So - I'm trying to get her to turn her lamp off when she leaves her room, but she always does it by just putting a blanket on top of it, even though the switch is easy enough to reach. And she knows what it is, and where it is - but she just puts her blanket over it instead to muffle the light, because she thinks that's easier, or faster. Because she takes shortcuts. Like innovative shortcuts, you know? The last time I took her to this park, there was a giant puddle on that merry go round thing, so I told her not to play on it because her shoes would get wet. So you know what she did? She took off her shoes." Jess shakes his head. "I couldn't even scold her for it because, like, she's not wrong. She solved the problem, technically."

"She's smart," Chris says. "Obviously. She's very, very bright. We can all tell."

"I'm not saying there's anything going on," Jess says. "It's not that she thinks dogs have batteries, it's like...she thinks dogs should have batteries, because that makes more sense than a dog just barking for no reason. And that's because she's smart, but I can tell that she's smart in a different kind of way than most people are smart. You know what I mean? That's why I'm worried."

Chris hums, looking over at Willa with one hand over her mouth.

"I don't want her to spend her entire life having to prove herself, over and over," Jess says. "She knows when she's right about something, but - people are gonna tell her she's wrong. I know they are."

"Well," Chris says, "there's not a whole lot that you can do about that."

Jess sighs. "Yeah," he says.

"Every smart kid goes through that, no matter what kind of smart they are. You did, I bet. I sure as fuck did."

Jess has to tamp down the urge to tell her that this is different, because it's not, really. She's right, and he knows she's right. His kid isn't anymore special than the thousands of other brilliant kids in the world, just because she's his. Jess is used to listening to his gut first, which always talks more sense than any other part of him, including his heart. But it's not like his heart is easy to ignore, either.

"She attacks problems from a different angle, maybe," Chris says, "but - that doesn't mean she won't grow out of it. She is only two, Jess. And if she doesn't, it doesn't mean that she won't learn how to turn that into a strength."

"I know all that," Jess says. "You think I'm not aware that this is neurotic? I'm not freaking out, but I never said I wasn't neurotic."

"Well, you're freaking out a little," Chris says. "But that's like, healthy or something. I think. It means you care."

Jess rolls his eyes, and keeps watching Willa, who is crouched by a bush, watching a couple of pigeons intently. She always looks a bit like her mom, when she gets that determined look on her face.

"I don't even know if I'm even gonna send her to preschool at all yet," Jess says.

"Like that fucking matters? It's glorified babysitting, man." Chris rolls her eyes. "She doesn't need one of those Montessori fucks to progress. She's progressing, Jess. Look at her."

Jess looks. Willa is still crouching, watching the pigeons. Hiding, Jess realizes, waiting for them to get close enough for her to pounce.

"Life is hard, you know?" Chris muses. "You're not gonna do her any favors by making her childhood perfect."

"People keep trying to tell me that, yeah." Jess can't really help it.

"If she has trouble with school, then it's better than the other kinds of trouble she could have," Chris reasons. "Because you're gonna be around to fight for her. You know? Yell at her teachers, get her into AP classes, defend her when she has problems. She's got you in her corner, so the school stuff - even if it sucks - is still gonna teach her a lot about the way the world works."

"I don't want her to know how the world works," Jess admits. It's hard to say, but he means it. "I don't know that I want her in the real world."

"Well, I don't blame you," Chris says. "It fucking sucks."

Jess doesn't reply right away, watching Willa, who seems to be doing...something. She's still crouching, but she's sort of...rocking back and forth on her feet, and then out of nowhere, she takes a rock that Jess didn't even know she had in her hand, and throws it straight at one of the pigeons. It hits the poor thing's leg, and sends both of them fluttering off into the air. Willa runs after them, shrieking.

Chris is laughing, leaning into Jess' side. Jess leans back, laughing a little himself. Disaster child.

"She's gonna be good at math, I think," Chris says, her face lit up and eager.

"Don't get any funny ideas, okay," Jess says. "She's not your science sidekick."

Chris elbows him sharply, making him yelp in surprised pain. "Don't discourage her dreams, Jess."

"I don't plan to," Jess says.


	17. Chapter 17

"Which one?" Jess asks.

"Carrot," says Willa, and grabs the biggest strawberry from the plate.

"That's a strawberry," Jess says.

"Carrot," Willa says stubbornly, and takes a big bite.

"Okay," Jess says, and sets the plate aside, "we'll work on that. How about the color? What color is it?"

"Carrot," Willa says.

"Red," Jess says. "Strawberries are red. Right? Like apples, and raspberries, and - "

"Carrots," Willa says.

"You're doing this on purpose now," Jess says. Willa grins at him. "Be real with me now, come on. This is serious stuff."

Willa gnaws on the strawberry some more, and then carefully places the remnants of the fruit on the side of her dinner tray. She looks up at Jess expectantly, her eyes wide.

"You want another one? Gotta ask me for it." Jess squints at her. "I know you know the right word. Come on, honey."

"Hmm," Willa says, "honey?"

"That's you, you're honey," Jess says, reaching out and tickling her neck a little. She squirms and laughs, flapping her hands at him. "It's also a condiment, but we haven't gotten that far yet. Come on, which one do you want? Strawberry or grape?"

"Gape," Willa says, pointing at a strawberry.

Jess stubbornly hands her a grape. Willa frowns, and throws it on the floor. "No, hey, don't throw food. Listen, you asked me for it, what do you want from me? Huh? You can't get mad at me for giving you what you asked for." Willa scrunches up her face in irritation and points insistently at the plate of strawberries. "Say it out loud, baby. Which one?"

"Daddy," Willa says, and scowls at him. He waits patiently, unmoving, until her face collapses and her eyes go teary.

"Damn it," Jess says, and drags the strawberries over. He's a sucker.

"Honey," Willa says happily, and digs in.

"Don't try to sweet talk me now, you little punk," Jess says. Willa holds out a strawberry for him placatingly, and Jess leans in and takes a bite. "Okay, fine, they're better than grapes. You win."

"Spaghetti," Willa says, clean as a bell, and shoves the rest of the strawberry in her mouth.

Jess stares at her. "What?"

"Spaghetti," Willa repeats, with a distinct air of wariness, like _Jess_ is the one who's being weird.

"Okay, sure, whatever," Jess says. "It's a good thing I can't afford to home school you; you'd flunk all your classes just to spite me. Huh? Right?"

Willa smiles happily and tries to hand him another strawberry.

"No thanks, I don't like spaghetti," Jess says, gently pushing her hand away.

"No," Willa says, " _carrot_ _._ "

"You're a real comedian," Jess tells her, and Willa laughs uproariously and takes another bite.


	18. Chapter 18

The book gets a fair amount of press, at least relatively speaking, and the sales look good, which means he can continue to look forward to weird emails from strangers for the next whenever. The Chrises keep bugging him to send out more of his shorter pieces to journals and contests and things like that, and Jess eventually gives in and sends some stuff out. One of the older ones gets picked up by The New Yorker, which looking back was the point of no return, as far as Jess' gmail account goes.

Matthew starts printing out the funnier ones at the shop, which eventually turns into an ongoing decoupage project involving an old rocking chair that he picked up at a yard sale. Whenever they have parties, Matt will hang a red rope around it and put up a sign that says "Untitled (The Mariano Ego), Mixed Media," and someone will inevitably try to buy it.

"What happens if I get a stalker?" Jess asks.

"You _wish_ your writing was good enough for stalkers," Girl Chris says, perched on the edge of the reception desk. Jess shoves her off with an elbow and she yelps, tumbling down to her feet. "Hey!"

"Whoops," Jess says.

"I think Christine's point is that it's unlikely," Matthew says delicately. "She was in no way making light of that horrific crime, of course, or implying that it would be good for your book sales."

Chris mumbles something under breath, glaring at Jess.

"Is that why you wear that ugly earring all the time?" Jess asks. "Is it like a two-way radio so you can jump in to cover her ass whenever she says something dumb?"

"My earring isn't ugly," Matt exclaims, at the same time that Chris goes, "your face is dumb."

"Yeah, always a pleasure, guys," Jess says.

Truthfully it's not that big of a deal; ninety percent of Jess' job is writing emails back and forth to random people, so it's not like it takes him that long to skim and delete them as they come in. He makes a few contacts anyway, mostly bloggers and journalists reaching out after the New Yorker piece, has a few interesting conversations with other writers, and carries on a hilariously nonsensical discussion with a seventeen-year-old in Nevada about Annie Proulx. The only time he gets truly weirded out is when one of the emails references Willa, at which point Jess immediately logs onto his Facebook in a fit of paranoia and locks down all his settings.

"It's probably nothing," April tells him, having appointed herself the official Mariano-Danes family cyber security officer. (She is also, apparently, handling all of the diner's social media accounts for Luke. Jess would like to know why the diner needs social media accounts, but all he gets is an eye-roll, whenever he asks.) "It mentions you have a daughter in your author bio, and she didn't mention Willa by name or anything. Everything she says in the message is actually pretty generic."

"Generic, maybe, but a little familiar, don't you think?" Jess asks, grimacing. There's a rather detailed description of why the family in the novel is a parallel to Jess' parents' relationship. None of the details are right - she apparently thinks Jimmy is dead - which makes him feel a little better, but that's still pretty fucked up.

"She's probably just a nut," April says reasonably, clicking around rapidly on Jess' laptop. After a second, she tilts the screen back to show him a Facebook profile. "See? I found her in like two seconds, so she's not a catfish. Just your garden variety weirdo, that's all."

Like hell Jess is going to admit that he doesn't know what the fuck a catfish is. "Great."

"She tried to friend you, though. I'm blocking her for you now," April says, frowning at the screen. The light reflects strangely off her glasses, making her look a lot older than she actually is. "You've got over a hundred friend requests, Jess! When was the last time you actually got on here?"

Jess shrugs. "I'll go through them later."

"Have you thought _at all_ about your online presence?" April asks critically. "It'd probably help the book if you at least had your own page, or something."

Jess sighs loudly, adding an annoyed groan at the end.

"Fine, fine," April grumbles. "I don't have time to do it, anyway. Grump."

Willa's been slacking lately on the going-to-sleep-on-time front, so Jess ends up going through the requests that night as she winds herself down with a coloring book (which by Willa's definition means ripping the pages out and tearing them into interesting shapes - she hasn't discovered the destructive capabilities of crayons yet, which Jess can only thank the higher powers for). She's getting big enough that Jess has to start thinking about getting her a real bed instead of the ominous-looking cage contraption that Lorelai and Luke had bought him for Willa's second birthday, but she loves the thing so damn much he's already dreading the process of getting her used to something else. He thinks it's the bars; she likes to grab onto them and shake herself dizzy. Well, Jess figures, at least she's having fun with it.

The best way to get her to settle down, Jess has found, is to just hang out in her general proximity until she gets bored and falls asleep. If he leaves her alone, she gets scared and starts crying, and if he tries to rock her or cuddle her or, God forbid, put on the TV or some music, she gets even more wound up and ends up staying up all night. The happy medium is an armchair Jess dragged into the bedroom where he can sit and work, close enough to shame her into sleep with his mere presence, but far enough away that she can't beam him with one of her toys.

Jess has heard tales of her going straight to sleep like a perfect angel who doesn't even know what the word fussy means, but he has his suspicions about that. Lorelai and Luke always give him detailed accounts of all the ridiculous shit they had to do to get her to go to sleep (usually delivered in rant-form from Luke, while Lorelai inhales a gallon of coffee and stares blankly into the middle distance) so Jess is pretty sure his mother is just full of shit, as usual.

Most of the friend requests are people Jess actually knows somehow, so he zips through the list fairly quickly. He declines anyone whose name he doesn't recognize right off the bat, and a few of them he declines just on principle, because Jesus Christ, why the fuck would Dean Forester's ex-wife want to be Facebook friends with him? Jess vaguely remembers being in a math class with her once, but any way he slices it, that's just asking for trouble. He's very careful about what he clicks on that one.

Taylor Doose, he declines too, and a few other names from high school he can't match faces to. There's one name that he stares at for ages before it clicks - that old hippie guy that used to run that vegetable stand in the town square. Jess laughs out loud and accepts that one. He used to sell Jess pot sometimes, after all, and he never once let on to anyone about it. No better reason to keep in touch than that.

He's hovering indecisively over Shane Crowley's name when another request pops up in real-time, and Jess doesn't even recognize the name at first. Angelo Bautista - definitely not a Stars Hollow name, and Jess' first instinct is that it's someone he went to school with in New York, but then he remembers, and his breath freezes solid in his chest. Mari's maiden name is Bautista.

His vision goes kind of spotty for a second, and he realizes that he's gripping his laptop too tightly and quickly sets it down on the floor. He looks over at Willa, who is in that nice stage of sleepy friendliness, humming something to herself and laying on her side. She smiles at Jess, reaching out one of her hands idly in his general direction, and Jess has to violently quash the urge to snatch her up into his arms.

It's fine, it's nothing, Jess thinks, smiling back at his daughter and taking deep, even breaths. He's her biological parent, he's aced every single CPS visit, shown up for every single court date, dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's. And Mari signed away her parental rights. The family's got no reason to - even if they did, they couldn't. They probably just want to...keep in touch. That's - okay, that'd be -

Jess picks up the laptop and clicks on the name. Angelo is Mari's brother, which Jess remembers now: she'd mentioned him a couple times, and the first poetry collection they'd published for her was dedicated to him. She'd always talked about him as if he were a little kid; his profile says he's twenty-one, which is older than Jess had always imagined him to be. He's in school, at a nursing college in Nashua, and Jess clicks through the unlocked pictures on the page with a painful lump in his throat. Most of them are of one girl in particular, a pretty blonde who's always making stupid faces for the camera. A girlfriend, maybe, or a wife? Jess clicks on one of them sitting together at a lunch table in what's obviously a high school; arms around each other, grinning, they look nice. Wholesome.

He's got Willa's smile, Jess thinks, and snaps the laptop shut sharply. _Jesus_ , he thinks. _Jesus_.

* * *

Jess calls his lawyer the next day, who spends about twenty minutes reassuring him that yes, it is extremely unlikely that any of Mari's extended family would ever successfully challenge Jess' custody, especially considering that both of her parents are dead. And, she adds, if they wanted to try anyway, they probably wouldn't friend him on Facebook first.

"I mean, I know that," Jess says, "on a logical level, I know that. I swear to God I know that."

"It's okay," Jess' lawyer says, who is a fifty-eight mother of three. That's probably the main reason Jess hired her - he thought it'd make him look more dependable, or something. "It must be nervewracking. But it wouldn't affect your standing, legally, if you decided to communicate with him. That decision is entirely up to you."

Jess breathes out slowly, rubbing his forehead. "Right. Okay."

"Now if Mari or her husband contact you, that you should definitely tell me about," she continues. "They haven't, have they? Since we last spoke?"

"Fuck no, are you kidding," Jess says, and hears her laugh in surprise. She's probably gonna bill him for this conversation, but whatever. He's a little past caring about that sort of thing.

He doesn't tell anyone for a few days, and spends a lot of time staring at the Facebook icon on his phone, turning the idea over and over in his head. He'd honestly never even considered the possibility before, that Mari might have family who might have opinions on how it all went down, who might want to be involved somehow. Stupid of him, maybe, but Mari never talked about her family much, and her silence had a certain weight to it - the weight of bad things that happened, and Jess never pushed. He knows her parents are dead, and he knows it was rough, and that's about all he knows, really. He's fairly certain she's only got the one brother, but he could be wrong. Hell, as far as he knows, Willa could have an entire squadron of aunts and uncles and cousins and who knows who else out there. They had to have left people behind in the Philippines, right? He's got no clue. He never even asked. Jess stares at the icon some more and feels like a fucking idiot.

Not exactly a new feeling, since he became a father. He's still not used to it.

He finally caves and tells Chris - Boy Chris - a few days in, still torn on what to do about the request and fed up with himself already. Chris storms around Jess' office for a good ten minutes, muttering in angry outrage, before he seems to run out of steam and just collapses in a chair, looking defeated.

"He's twenty-one? Still in college?"

Jess shrugs. He's got Angelo's profile up on his work computer, so he's not logged into his own account. No risk of accidentally clicking the wrong button and blowing his wad too early. "Nursing school."

"The kid wants to be a nurse? Shit." Chris shakes his head. "He's probably a freak, then."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Everyone knows nurses are freaks," Chris says matter-of-factly, as if this is just an unwavering fact about the world. The sky is blue, apples are red, nurses are freaks. Whatever. "Did he send you a message?"

"I don't think so."

"Well," Chris says, shaking his head, "I dunno, man. It's a direct line to Mari, is the thing."

Yeah. "I'm aware," Jess says.

"She dedicated her book to him, so it's not like they were already on the outs before. They had to have been mad close. Even if he's on your side about it all, that's not just gonna go away."

"There are no sides," Jess says. "It wasn't even a fight. She showed me a paternity test, and the next thing I know, we're drawing up custody papers and arranging court dates. Her husband was the one who got all pissed off, but - you know, that was whatever - "

"She wanted you both out of the way ASAP, sounds like," Chris says. He sounds quietly furious, with more emotion than he usually allows to surface. He's all bluster, really, when you get down to it, most of his dramatics are him just playing the game, giving people what they expect, or sometimes the opposite of it, depending on what he wants out of them. The only times Jess has ever seen him genuinely emotional have been when Willa was involved somehow. "Doesn't mean her brother agreed with her. Might be that he wants to get to know her, might be that he's genuine. Or might be that he thinks you're a homewrecker, and he wants to kick your ass in a dark alleyway somewhere for taking advantage of his big sister."

"He looks like a scrawny guy, I could probably take him," Jess says dully.

"You're kind of scrawny too, man."

"I am _scrappy_ ," Jess says, indignant. Chris rolls his eyes and raises his palms in the air in an exaggerated gesture of defeat. "It was more complicated than that, Chris. From her point of view _and_ mine."

"I know that, but from the outside, it doesn't look that way," Chris says. He pauses for a second, visibly hesitating. "It looks bad no matter what angle you're coming from. Either she's the bad guy or you are, and Jess, man, you're my friend. So it's gotta be her. You know what I mean?"

Jess rolls his head around on his shoulders, trying to loosen the cords of tension in his neck. "Yeah."

"You taking care of Willa makes it look a little bit worse, on her end. The way it all went down, too - putting Rick's name on the certificate, then signing over her rights the second she got caught, moving out of the fucking country right after - come on - "

"Just," Jess interrupts, holding up a hand, "let's - not. Can we just not?"

"I don't get how you're not pissed off about it," Chris says, but his tone softens, the anger leeching away.

"I told you, it's complicated."

"Being in love with her doesn't make it complicated when she fucks you over, it just makes it suck a lot more."

"I wasn't in - " Jess breaks off, physically biting his tongue to keep the words in. "That's not what I meant. I said it's complicated, that's what I meant. Okay? It wasn't easy for her, to give Willa up. She didn't have much of a choice, not if she wanted to keep Rick around. He gave her an ultimatum."

"So she chose her husband over her daughter and that makes it better?"

"I don't want to get into this. I don't!" Jess gestures at Chris sharply, who backs off again, his expression as dark as a storm cloud. "She's Willa's mother, okay? She gave birth to my daughter. I can't hate her, alright? I _can't_."

Chris leans forward, tipping his head into his hands for a brief second. When he face emerges again, the anger is gone. He just looks sad. "Okay, man. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

The silence is heavy, and Jess hits a key on the computer to get rid of the screensaver. Angelo and his girlfriend are still there, mugging happily for the camera.

"I would've killed to have my dad get in touch with me when I was a kid," Jess says idly.

"Yeah, but that was your dad," Chris says. "And he turned out to be a bastard."

"Yeah," Jess says, still staring at the photograph. "I always did have rotten luck."

* * *

When Jess was twelve, his dad called him on his first day of school, a five-minute conversation that carried Jess through for the next six years of radio silence. Liz just _loved_ to bitch about it, resentful of how much attention and optimism Jess reserved for Jimmy, to the point where the briefest mention of even the _concept_ of fatherhood could start a fight. Jess thinks about what it might feel like, if Willa ever starts idolizing Mari, and thinks he might understand his mother just a little bit better, now. He's getting there, anyway.

He accepts Angelo's friend request, and brings Willa into his bedroom to sleep that night, just because. His kid is not a teddy bear, but if she were, she'd make a killing at it. She doesn't even hit him in her sleep. Much.

About a week passes before he works up enough spine to check Facebook again, and there's a message from Angelo. Jess opens it and reads it three times before he actually processes what it is - a clumsy, but earnest, overture. The kid actually says "no pressure" at least four times, and signs off with "Best Regards." Jess has to laugh at it.

The thing is, Jess knew from the very beginning that Mari wouldn't stay away forever. She'd leave Rick, maybe, or he'd forgive her for cheating, or Willa would grow up and want to meet her, or _something_. The only thing Liz ever did by trying to keep Jess away from his father was to make him want it more, and the disappointment when the fantasy shattered at his feet nearly killed him. Jess thought about that a lot, in the beginning, about his parents, about Luke and Anna and April, and decided he wasn't going to do that - if nothing else, he can keep Willa from repeating his shitty mistakes. The shitty mistakes she'll make will be new ones, of her own making, and hopefully Jess will be in a better position to help her handle them than Liz ever was for him.

And the other thing he knows is, you can't keep secrets from a kid. You lie to them once about something big, and it's all over. Jess doesn't plan to lie to Willa ever, not even about the small stuff, but especially not something as monumental as her mother, or her mother's family. And - if he didn't clear the way, then...that's a sort of lie, isn't it? Or it's close enough to one that Willa wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

He wants a lot of things for his daughter and he hopes for a lot of things for himself, in relation to her, but the one thing he knows he can make happen is trust, and that's just not gonna happen if he puts his own bullshit first. Jess doesn't think there will ever be a better reason to get over himself than that. So he messages Angelo back.

He replies right away, and Jess doesn't want to think about the kid waiting around all week for a reply, so he doesn't. They talk for about twenty minutes, and Jess sends him some pictures, and Angelo uses a lot of emojis. His girlfriend's name is Caroline and they met in high school, she's studying biology and it's really cool that Jess knows someone who works at the New York Hall of Science! Angelo is going into nursing because you get more one-on-one time with patients, which is his favorite part, and he thinks Willa is really, really beautiful, direct quote. He's very sorry that it took him this long to get in touch, but he didn't know if Jess wanted him to, and he couldn't figure out a way to contact him, anyway, not until he saw that article in the New Yorker, which was really good, by the way! Caroline really liked it, too. He hasn't spoken to his sister in about eight months or so. They had a big fight - not about this, something else - and Angelo thought it'd be best if they didn't speak for awhile. He's wanted to get in touch since he found out about Willa, but he was just...nervous.

 _I would really like to meet her but I understand totally if you don't want me to, it's up to you, Angelo writes. Not right away obviously, but I want to be around? Like to be part of her life somehow? Even if she doesn't know I'm her uncle, I don't care about that really, I just want to get to know her. But not if it makes you uncomfortable! 100% your decision._

Jess lets that one sit for a few minutes, glancing over at the ever-present mountain of mess in the living room, the clearest sign that Willa has Been Here recently. She's napping now, exhausted from a morning of chaos, and Jess is definitely, definitely not going to go in there and watch her sleep like an overprotective weirdo when he's done with this. Definitely not.

He doesn't regret finding out that Jimmy was a bastard, is the last thing he knows. It sucked, but he'd rather know the truth, in the end. You can't move forward until you know what's behind you.

 _Let's see how it goes_ , Jess sends back. Angelo responds with a smiley face.


	19. Chapter 19

happy Pride everyone! xo

* * *

Boy Chris' sole contribution to the LGBT community of Philadelphia is the yearly volunteer work he does for the Pride parade, and even that he does grudgingly. He's not a very generous man, overall, which Jess means in the most affectionate way possible. He's just too busy to be charitable, or so he says.

"What he means by that is that genuine emotion makes him uncomfortable," Matthew translates, for Girl Chris' benefit. "He doesn't want to make connections with other gay people, because that might mean things like 'friendship' and 'relationships' and 'emotional intimacy' - "

"I date," Boy Chris interrupts, defending himself. "I date all the time."

"One night stands don't count," says Matt.

"Isn't it funny how Matthew has appointed himself the Chieftain of Emotional Health when he's the one who eloped with the first Mets fan who gave him the time of day - "

"Hey," protests Girl Chris lazily. She doesn't even look up from her phone.

"Sorry," says Boy Chris, "the first _beautiful_ Mets fan." Girl Chris rolls her eyes at him.

"It's not my fault that the two of you are dysfunctional catastrophes," Matthew says archly.

Jess makes eye contact with Boy Chris, who sighs heavily. "Matthew," Jess says solemnly, "you once broke up with a girl through her father."

Matt shifts, glancing over at Girl Chris, who very suddenly and pointedly has started paying attention. "So?"

"You asked her _father_ to tell her that you needed space. Her _father_ , Matt."

"We were close! He was a good guy."

"Oh my God," Girl Chris says, exasperated and a little disgusted, and Boy Chris cracks up.

"My point still stands," Matthew says, loud enough to be heard over the laughter. "The last time Christopher gave a guy an actual fighting chance, George W. Bush was still president."

"Don't judge my lifestyle, man," Boy Chris says. "I'm a complex man, I am large, I celebrate myself and sing myself. Celebrate with me, dude, don't...cast our friendship in...uh, judginess - "

Girl Chris is the one to crack up this time, pressing her face into the hand with the phone, snorting loudly.

" - 'cuz all my atoms are also your atoms. Right? One love, leaves of grass. Word up."

"That was actually kind of impressive," Jess says. Girl Chris snorts again, giggling. "I mean, for someone who thinks Walt Whitman was the guy who founded Disney."

"Didn't he?" Boy Chris asks, grinning. He reaches backward with one hand and high-fives Girl Chris without looking.

Matthew eyes the three of them with profound skepticism. "Well," he eventually says, after a long minute, "as long as you're happy."

"Thanks, Dad," Boy Chris says.

* * *

Jess has only been to Pride once, the summer he'd moved to Philly and met Chris and Matt. In retrospect it had been a sort of hazing ritual, or maybe more like a test, to see if Jess really _was_ cool with the gay thing or if he'd just said that because they kept letting him smoke their weed. But the three of them had set up with a cooler and got happily trashed with the ladies running the LGBT retirement charity table across the sidewalk, and once you get drunk with a bunch of friendly old lesbians it's kind of hard to _not_ be cool about it, quite frankly. Not that Jess needed help opening his mind or anything - he was raised by a hippie, for fuck's sake. He was a regular attendee of Lilith Fair before he even learned how to drive.

Anyway it hadn't exactly caught on as an office bonding activity, and nowadays the only time Jess remembers that it exists is when it fucks up his morning commute, so suffice to say he hasn't exactly made any plans this year. This turns out to be a profound disappointment to April, who was apparently relying on Jess' status as "Adult With A Gay Friend" to help her out in that department.

"I just wanna like, check it out," she tells him. "Nothing crazy or anything, I just wanna see what it's like, you know?"

"Hartford has to have some kind of Pride thing, doesn't it?" Jess asks.

April snorts. "Yeah. It's at the mall."

"Ouch."

"But that's not the point, anyway! Hartford, or anywhere around here, that's not like, real Pride. You know?"

"Not really," Jess says honestly.

"Jess, come on! New York, Philly - that's where it all happened! I live so close to them both, it's stupid for me not to go."

"Oh," Jess says. "Well, okay, but that sounds kind of like a...you know. Bonding activity."

April makes an impatient noise that crackles like static over the phone line. "I mean, I'm not gonna make you braid my hair or anything. Don't worry, your manly stoicism will stay intact."

"I braid my daughter's hair every morning, April, I could handle yours too," Jess says, rolling his eyes, "what I'm saying is it sounds like something you need to do with your mom. Or Luke."

April laughs, a little bitterly. "Mom doesn't want to fly out just for a parade. Actually, she offered to fly me back to New Mexico so we could go to Santa Fe's Pride, but - "

" _Santa Fe_?" Jess shudders.

"Right?!" April huffs. "And can you picture my dad at a Pride parade? Come on."

"He's not weird about it, is he?"

"No. No, he - " April pauses, and then laughs again, this time more genuinely. "Kirk actually found out when he overheard me and Kathleen talking, and he blabbed to Taylor of course, and then at the town meeting - "

"Aw man," Jess says.

" - yeah, I mean, I don't know what he was gonna say exactly, but it sounded like it was gonna be bad. But Dad stood up before Taylor could even get through the first sentence and started yelling about the 'no more than three flower and/or fruit stands in the town square' law, which of course got everybody else going, too. So that was pretty cool."

Jess allows himself a grin, since she's not actually in the room to see it. "He has his moments, huh?"

"Yeah," April says happily. "Anyway - it's more of a desire not to be publicly humiliated when he inevitably starts yelling about something. Maybe one year if we plan it, and Lorelai can come with us, and we can all sufficiently prepare him for it - then maybe. _Maybe_."

"Maybe you can start him off with the Hartford mall Pride and work your way up."

April laughs. "Good idea. I might actually try that."

Jess reaches for the planner he keeps all his shit in - well, it's a notebook, really, with a complex system of Post-Its - and flips for a second. "Well, kiddo - I've got a meeting in New York the day of the parade, and I can't reschedule that. I could make it back down by early afternoon, if you don't mind missing...uh, the actual parade part, but - "

"No," April says, sighing. "No, it's okay. I should've asked you earlier."

"I bet Chris would take you, though. If you didn't mind going with him instead."

"No, no, I mean, I wouldn't want to put him out," April says reluctantly, sounding like she very much would like to put him out. "I'm sure he doesn't want some random teenager following him around all day."

"Do you have any idea how long he's been bugging us to let him hire an intern?" Jess asks. "We'll call this a trial run. Plus, he still owes me one for that time I let him take Willa to the park."

"Isn't that just like, babysitting?"

"Not when he uses her to get phone numbers," Jess says archly. The son of a bitch still keeps Willa's baby photos on his phone, just in case, for when he goes out to the bars. Jess tries very hard not to think about what kind of fetishes his daughter is inadvertently helping people indulge in. "Look, just make sure you get the first train so you get here before noon. I'll make sure someone picks you up."

April makes a shrill noise of excitement, and Jess yanks the phone away from his ear, wincing. "Jess, oh my God, seriously, this really means a lot to - "

"Yeah, no, let's not do that," Jess says quickly.

"Fine," April says, "then can I bring you some of Dad's cream cheese muffins that you don't want him to know that you like?"

"...okay, we can do that," Jess says.

* * *

Jess orders Matthew to pick April up, because he's the nicest, and probably the only one out of all of them that is going to have anything in common with a teenage girl. Jess doesn't even have much to talk about with the kid, honestly, and he's the one actually related to her - their relationship mostly consists of April complaining about Luke while Jess tries desperately to stay sympathetic _and_ neutral at the same time.

("You do realize that's all a relationship _is_ , right?" says Matt. "Exchanging...life experiences...talking about your feelings..."

"Sure," Jess says with a snort, "whatever you say, Dr. Phil.")

Chris, to his credit, complains minimally about being conscripted into the Gay Mentor service, and very bravely endures a forty-minute phone call with Anna the night before. He doesn't really say anything but "uh huh" and "yes ma'am" for the bulk of it, so Jess presumes that it involves a lot of that bizarre Mom lecturing that Jess never learned how to respond to properly, so it's probably for the best that he's only tangentially involved in this mess.

"What does she like?" Chris asks afterward, sort of grimly, like he's preparing for battle or something. "Is she a jock? Nerd? Prep? Emo? What's her genre?"

Jess stares at him blankly. "She's into school," he says. "Good grades."

"Okay," Chris says, leadingly.

"And she's gay." Jess pauses, drawing a sudden blank.

Chris frowns at him. "Okay, so she's not one of you dumbass heteros. Good to know. Anything else you wanna add?"

"She works at the diner sometimes," Jess offers, "and, uh, she wants to go to Columbia."

Chris is nodding briskly. "Good taste, okay. What else?"

"I don't know, Chris, she's a teenager. She listens to pop music and she hogs my ethernet cable whenever she spends the night. What do you want from me?"

"Just so you know," Chris says, scowling, "this is probably why Matthew thinks you're a catastrophe."

"Way harsh, man," Jess says mildly. "Why are you being weird about this anyway?"

"Are you kidding?" Chris asks, eyebrows high. "This is Luke's daughter. _The_ Luke."

" _The_ Luke?" Jess repeats, incredulously.

" _The_ Luke, who pulled me aside and threatened to destroy my credit rating if I ever fucked you over, not even ten minutes after he met me," Chris says. Jess stares at him. "What, you didn't notice? He threatened both of us, but Matt handled it a lot better, I think. That's why he's the one Luke calls, whenever he can't get ahold of you."

Jess stares at him.

"And you know what? I believed him, man. I really did," Chris says. "He's fucking terrifying. He had death in his eyes. Stone cold. No life at all. You don't fuck with that."

Jess snorts loudly, but Chris' face doesn't even twitch. "Are you sure we're talking about the same - "

"Yes," Chris says flatly. "So I'm asking you, as a friend, as a bro, to tell me what April likes so I can get along with her and also not get murdered in a dark alleyway. Okay? It's the least you can do. Literally."

Jess doesn't even know what to do with this, honestly. "Uh," he says, head spinning a little, "Carl Sagan. She likes Carl Sagan, and her favorite movie is Ghostbusters."

"Thank you," Chris says emphatically. "See, now that, I can work with."

* * *

Jess' meeting is with a contract lawyer from a fancy ass firm in Manhattan, so it's not exactly the type of situation where he can pause the conversation to look at the selfies his cousin keeps sending him every twenty minutes. This means that by the time he stumbles out of the building, wandering dazedly in the general direction of the nearest coffee shop, Jess has received no less than eighteen text messages, three missed calls, and one very long voicemail, which he listens to while inhaling the biggest Dead Eye he could convince the barista to make.

"Jess! Jess, oh my God," is April's opening, interrupted by a loud burst of laughter. The background is overflowing with noise - the familiar chaos of music, shouting, and loud conversation that makes up any kind of public event. "This is so much fun. So much fun! I know you're in that meeting and I don't wanna bother you but I had to call you and tell you who we met - guess who?!"

"WHO?!" comes Chris' booming voice from the background.

"Joey Lawrence!" April says, barely getting it out through her laughter. From the background again, Chris chimes in with the Gimmie a Break "whoa!" and April laughs wildly, sounding close to hyperventilation. "Yeah, he was on one of the floats I guess, and he stopped by our table to say hi to someone and he's really funny! Okay you probably don't care, and I didn't even know who he was really at first, and that was _super_ embarrassing but he thought it was really funny and he autographed the inside of my planner for my mom and - oh! I danced in a conga line! And I met this girl named Divine who lives in Boston and she's really cute and Chris met a guy too but I wasn't supposed to tell you that - "

Chris breaks in again, shouting something incoherent about salsa dancing and - Coke Zero...? Jess rubs his forehead.

"And Jennifer Weiner is here too, she gave a speech! Chris says you don't like her because her books suck but she seems really nice and there are all kinds of news cameras here and I'm pretty sure we might have gotten on TV, _maybe_ , and - "

Jess' phone beeps and April is cut off, having reached the end of his voicemail's tolerance, apparently. Jess buries his face in his hands and laughs for a second, a little incredulously. There are some surreal moments, for Jess, where he's struck by how far he actually is from where he always thought he'd be. Life is so fucking funny that way sometimes.

The selfies are a whole other form of entertainment, taken in a variety of odd situations that could only occur at something like a Pride parade. There are pictures of April with Chris, wearing matching rainbow headbands. April with Joey Lawrence, who has way less hair than Jess remembers from reruns on Nick at Nite, and April posing with a row of firefighters wearing what appears to be...crowns made out of condom wrappers? April with a drag queen, April with an old lady in a mardi gras mask, April petting the biggest dog that Jess has ever seen in his life, April dancing, April singing, April smiling. Jess saves a couple to his phone and then sends the rest off to Lorelai, who is the only person he can think of who will appreciate them the way they deserve.

There are texts from Chris outlining the plans for the rest of the evening, which involve acquiring Willa from daycare and that killer pizza place in Fishtown, so Jess calls Luke instead, who picks up the phone with the speed of someone who's been waiting for it to ring. Jess honestly worries about the guy sometimes; the whole dad gig doesn't exactly do wonders for your blood pressure.

"You don't have to reassure me or nothin'," Luke says gruffly, by way of a greeting. "April called to do that already. And sent me a photo, but I can't figure out how to open it."

Jess huffs out a laugh. "She had fun."

"I know she did," Luke says grudgingly.

"I sent Lorelai some pictures. The ones April probably won't send to you."

"Wonderful," Luke grouses, but in a vaguely pleased sort of way, the kind of thing only he can pull off. "Can't wait to see those."

"Yeah well, I did erase the ones of her and Chris shooting up. The naked pole dancing ones, too. No need to get anyone in trouble."

"Oh, very funny," Luke says. "You still in New York?"

"On the train back." Jess checks his watch. "Maybe another forty minutes back to Philly, and then I'm supposed to meet them at a restaurant. I'll text you when I get there."

"I said you don't have to reassure me," Luke says testily.

"Sure I don't," Jess says indulgently. "I'll make her call you again before she goes to bed."

Luke makes a grumpy 'hmmph' noise that Jess translates to: "thanks."

"So I heard about the thing with Taylor," Jess says.

"Don't remind me," Luke replies with a groan. "He won't leave me alone. Wants to start a Pride parade here in Stars Hollow - never mind that April's the only actual gay person who lives here. Well - other than 'ol Marty Brubaker, but he doesn't come out in public anymore since he lost his dentures."

Jess snorts. "You know that for a fact? April's the only one?"

"The only one Taylor knows," Luke says. "Which is the damn problem - he'd make her into a spectacle, and April doesn't need that. She can barely talk about it with her mom, let alone me. That's why, uh." Luke coughs. "It's good that she went down there to do this, and all. It's good of you guys to help."

Jess thinks about that day that he met April, when she and Luke came to Philly on that school trip. He hadn't noticed Luke talking to Chris or Matt on their own, but he'd been...distracted, to say the least. It surprises Jess, but it also doesn't. Luke would never admit it, but Jess isn't an idiot. He knows the fights that Luke must have fought on his behalf. That's way Luke is, about loving people - he doesn't say it to your face, he just does it behind your back. If you notice, great. If you don't - even better. Less hassle that way, anyway. Jess can relate.

The silence sits for a little too long, and Jess hears Luke cough awkwardly again. "I didn't actually do anything," Jess finally says, for lack of anything better.

"You let her bully you into it."

"Eh," Jess says, "she's all bluster."

Luke laughs. "Yeah," he says proudly. "Wonder where she gets _that_ from?"

* * *

April is made of sugar and sunshine that night, bouncing off the walls of the pizza place and makes everyone in the vicinity lose it at least once - including the strangers at the surrounding tables. Willa in particular adores it, and Jess and Chris just sort of watch it happen, not really having to do very much. Chris looks exhausted, but he can't stop grinning either. All in all, it's the best way Jess has ever pulled off a meaningful family interaction, especially considering how little he actually had to interact with any of them.

"You gonna call this girl?" Jess asks, scrolling through April's pictures. Divine - girl from Boston, fake red hair, fake eyelashes, but the name is real apparently - is in fact pretty cute. "Gotta wait a couple days, remember. Don't wanna come off too eager."

"She added me on Facebook," April says through a mouthful of the vegan special. "Like an hour afterwards. Doesn't that negate the playing it cool rule? If she reaches out first?"

"Facebook don't count as reaching out," Chris says, stealing one of Jess' breadsticks. Willa, in his lap, promptly steals it back and stuffs it in her mouth. "Hey!"

"Ayy, atta girl," April says, crowing with laughter. Jess grins at his daughter, smugly proud. "Oh hey - we should take Willa next year. You'd love it, Wills! Lots of confetti and dancing and stuff."

"Confetti!" Willa repeats, overjoyed with a new, fun word.

"Yeah!" April says eagerly. "Lots of it. Tons of condoms, too."

"Don't repeat that word please," Jess says quickly.

"Never too early to learn about safe sex - ow!" Chris winces, rubbing his shin. "Okay, too far. I get it, that's fair. Hey Willa-Willa!" Chris hitches her up to stand on her feet on his knees. Willa laughs in delight, grabbing a handful of Chris' hair for support. "Tell Daddy I'm sorry."

"Sorry," Willa says.

"Nah - I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Willa replies.

"No honey - Chris is sorry. Tell him _Chris_ is sorry."

"It's okay," Willa says, and pats Chris' head. April collapses into laughter again.

"You gotta stop setting her up," Jess says, grinning, "she thinks she's a comedian. You're makin' it too easy for her."

"The cutest comedian I know," Chris says easily, pressing a kiss to Willa's cheek. Willa pulls his hair in response. "Ow! Easy on the 'fro, babe."

"Maybe that's what you'll be when you grow up," April tells Willa. "A stand up comedian. We've got everything else in the family, practically - a writer, a journalist, two small business owners, a construction worker, uh - a Renaissance Faire, uh, performer..."

"You can just say hippie, it's fine," Jess says.

"Anyway, you gotta blaze your own trail. I respect that," April continues. "I, myself, plan to be the first Mariano-Danes-Gilmore-Nardini to major in math." She nods proudly. "Also I'm the first lesbian. That we know of, anyway - I've got a few suspicions about my mom's great aunt Millie, but nothing confirmed."

"Lesbian," says Willa, in a definitive sort of way.

"Yes, I agree," April says.

"Maybe you won't be the last, April," Chris says, bouncing Willa a little. "Huh, Willa? Whataya think? Wanna join the cool kids? We can't get married but hey, our parties are off the hook."

Willa doesn't reply, reaching down for another breadstick. Jess gives it to her, rolling his eyes at both of them.

"She can date space aliens for all I care, so long as I don't have to think about it," Jess says. "Also I'd like to stop talking about this immediately. Thanks."

"Coward," April says, laughing. Jess shrugs. She's not wrong.

Later, when Chris is at the counter, immersed in the complex process of removing Willa's hands from his hair so he can pay the bill, April slides out of her chair and into the one next to Jess', and takes a giant drink of his Coke.

"Why is everyone stealing my food tonight?" Jess grouses, and April shrugs, crunching loudly on a piece of ice.

"Can I tell you something emotional?" April asks.

"No," says Jess.

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you anyway."

"Please don't," Jess says, inching away.

"Get ready," April says, grabbing Jess' arm in a tight grip, stopping his backward motion. "I love you, Jess."

"Oh God," Jess says, cringing.

"I really look up to you and I feel really lucky that you're in my life," April says quickly, and then lets Jess' arm go with a sigh of relief. "Whew. Wow, that was easier than I thought it'd be."

"Okay," Jess says, eyeing her warily, "that was - thanks. Thank you. Are you done?"

"Yeah," April says, grinning.

"I, uh," Jess says, looking over at Chris and Willa, who don't look any closer to being done than they had two seconds before. No help there. "You know, I. You know."

"Sure," April says, visibly trying not to laugh.

"Great," Jess says, blowing out an annoyed breath. "Well, good talk."

"Wasn't it?" April says.


	20. Chapter 20

Willa starts talking in complete sentences out of nowhere, much like was predicted by almost everyone in Jess' life, proving once and for all that she was put on this earth primarily to make him look stupid. It happens at dinner.

"I'm not gonna burn it this time, I promise," Jess says, adding a handful of unidentified vegetable to his stir fry.

"You always say that," says Willa, and Jess turns around so fast he bangs his knee against the cupboard handle and drops his spatula.

"Holy shit," says Jess, and bends over, clutching his leg. "Holy - crap, that hurt. Oh my God. Did you just say what I think you just said?"

Willa eyes him warily, and doesn't reply.

"Oh, don't pull that move with me, I heard you," Jess says, and limps over to the table. "C'mere, you little - "

Willa shrieks with laughter as Jess swings her up into his arms, winding her fists into his shirt collar. Jess kisses her face over and over and over, until her face is flushed and she's almost hiccuping from her giggles.

"Stop! Stop it!"

"Stop what?" Jess says, laughing himself as Willa makes a weird noise, kind of a cross between a gasp and a snort. "Stop what?"

"Kissing me!"

"If you insist," Jess says, and smooshes their cheeks together instead. Willa's face blurs into a blob of color, her hair a dark, puffy cloud in the background. "God, you're smart. A smart alec, too, what were you doing, waiting for the right moment?"

Willa blows a raspberry in his face, spitting all over Jess' nose, then pulls away, laughing hysterically.

"Right," Jess says wryly.

"Down! Down!"

Willa lunges backward, nearly tipping herself straight out of Jess' arms. "Demanding," he says, depositing her back on the floor relatively smoothly. Willa instantly takes off, her little bare feet slapping loudly against the tile. "Hey, hey! Where you goin', we're making dinner here!"

She's already gone. Jess stands there and listens for a moment as something topples over in the living room - that damn lamp again, probably - and Willa laughs loudly in response. "Christ," he says, his heart beating a samba against his rib cage. God, she always manages to surprise him, even when he's expecting it.

Another ominous noise from the living room, and Jess covers his face with his hand for a second and laughs. "Christ," he says again, and turns off the stove. His vegetable is burning.

* * *

It's not that Willa wasn't talking before, or that she suddenly turns into a chatterbox after that - Jess still has to prompt her, and she still ignores him when she doesn't feel like speaking. But the discovery of sentence clauses definitely increases the complexity - and frequency - of the demands she can make of all the adults in her life that think she's cute, and Jess also saw this coming, if he's being honest.

The first time Jess picks her up from a weekend in Stars Hollow after this, Lorelai sheepishly hands him an actual laundry basket full of toys, most of which look brand new. Jess glares at Luke, who looks utterly unrepentant.

"We took her to the playground at the mall in Hartford, and they just opened this new toy store there, and um," Lorelai says, by way of explanation, still avoiding eye contact with Jess. "She's, uh - yeah. Sorry."

"No, please, it's my fault," Jess says, still glaring at Luke. "I don't know why I expected you guys to have better impulse control than my three-year-old. Clearly this was an error of judgment on _my_ part."

Willa, hanging from Luke's arm like he's a jungle gym, smiles up at them all angelically. Luke's mouth twitches.

Jess sighs. "Can you at least keep some of it here?"

"Oh, we did," Lorelai says, wincing again. "Heh. This is like...about half of it. Little less than half, actually."

"Really? _Really_?" Jess says, rattling the basket. Lorelai laughs nervously.

"Build-a-Bear!" Willa exclaims, grinning madly. Luke turns his honk of laughter into a cough, somewhat successfully.

"I thought you, at least, were better than this," Jess says to Lorelai, who is biting her lip against her own grin. She quickly hides her face in her hair, shoulders shaking. "Oh, yeah, it's real funny. Glad you all had a good time."

Luke punches his shoulder as he walks awkwardly to the car, Willa standing on his shoes, giggling and clutching Luke's elbow for balance. "She said you never buy her anything."

"She _lies_ ," Jess says, but Luke and Willa don't seem to hear him. Lorelai is still laughing into her hair. "Okay. Great. Thanks for the help."

Lorelai pats his shoulder, in the same spot where Luke had punched, her face red. "You're welcome," she says.

* * *

So Jess has been reading to Willa before bed for a few months now, usually from whatever book he's reading at the time - the theory was that she'd pick up bigger words, and also that she'd get bored and fall asleep much faster, which worked most of the time. But now that she's talking more, the experience is _interactive_ , and after an arduous evening with Margaret Atwood, Jess starts censoring.

Rory sends him the extra copies from her collection, a box full of Lois Lowry, Philip Pullman, Louis Sachar, Madeleine L'Engle. Girl Chris brings over a bunch of Magic School Bus books, which Willa tears through herself, bored by the stories but fascinated by the pictures. Matthew buys one of those Hooked on Phonics starter sets, which Jess and Willa have some marginal success with, and Luke and Lorelai continue to spoil the shit out of her with a regular supply of coloring books and fancy markers. Liz sends some kind of weird, hipster version of Where's Waldo that Willa gets bored with in about two seconds, and also, to her credit, a few puzzle pamphlet things that are a bit more of a hit. And all of that _on top_ of the normal mountain of stuffed animals and toys that she gets showered with. Jess has always had trouble finding space for all the stuff a toddler both requires and acquires in their modest little apartment, but now he's started taking boxes to Goodwill on the regular, especially after word gets out at work that Willa's started to read. Jess ends most business meetings with a picture book or two, these days.

The most incredible part for Jess isn't so much the reading, though - as thrilled as he is that Willa is starting to learn, that she seems to be developing opinions and preferences, that she'll sit in Jess' lap and listen to a story for as long as he's willing to read it out loud, it's the conversation that just blows him away each time. He reads _Matilda_ to her in a single afternoon once, mostly because she's so into it that she won't let him stop, but also because Jess can't get enough of the stuff she keeps saying about it.

"She can do like this," Willa tips sideways in Jess' lap and throws her arms in the air, "boom." She laughs.

"Yeah, cuz she's got magic powers, huh? Seems like it'd come in handy."

Willa nods, still lying sideways, her head on Jess' arm.

"What would you do, if you had magic powers?"

"Um." Willa scrunches up her face, thinking intensely. "I dunno."

"C'mon, you'd do lots of stuff. You know you would."

"I, umm," Willa says, drawing the word out as far as she can possibly make it go. "I'd go like this," she flings her hands out, "and make all the windows open, all at the same time, and the wind would come in really loud."

"The wind would come in really loud? Why, is it too hot in here?"

Willa giggles. "Noooo."

"We got fans for that, you know. There's a fan right up there, you don't need to use magic for that."

"No because, because the wind comes in and then it goes like this," Willa does another dramatic hand gesture, eyes wide, " _woosh_ , and it picked me up and then I flew away."

"You flew away?" Jess asks. "Like a bird? A Willa bird."

Willa ignores him, staring off into space for a second, still flapping her hands absently. She's obviously already onto something else, and Jess waits patiently, trying not to smile too obviously. She still takes that personally. "Um - Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Daddy I heard a story at Grampa's house, he was talking outside and he said that's not my name, um, that's not my name."

"Grandpa said that?" Jess asks. Willa nods. "Who was he talking to?"

"I don't know," Willa says plaintively.

"Was it Aunt Lorelai?" Willa shakes her head. "Maybe Grandma Liz then?"

"No Liz wasn't there she was at her fair, Granpa said," Willa informs him, bending her fingers backwards against her cheek, one by one. Jess pulls her back upright gently, throwing the book aside, and she burrows into the space between his arm and chest.

"It's a mystery, then. What made you think of Grandpa?"

"The teacher," Willa says, and Jess bites his lip viciously against a grin.

"The teacher in the book? Miss Trunchbull?" Willa nods. "Does she remind you of Grandpa Luke?"

"They talk the same," Willa says, and Jess turns his face away quickly, choking on laughter. "And, and Aunt Lorelai said she has fairies in the backyard sometimes." She pronounces Lorelai's name more like 'Lolly,' but Jess has it on pretty good authority that Lorelai thinks it's adorable, so he's stopped trying to correct her.

"Actual fairies? With wings and everything?"

"I think she was lying," Willa confides. Jess finally gives into his laughter, bending down and kissing her frown again, which has reappeared on her solemn little forehead.

"Willa," Jess says, "you are the smartest bird I know. Have I told you that lately?"

"Every day," Willa says, long-suffering. Jess blows a raspberry against her cheek and she wiggles away, squealing.

More precious than the bedtime conversations are the random bursts of affection that Willa suddenly starts displaying - she's all smiles most days, and her tantrums start getting easier to handle, especially now that she's got the ability to explain what's making her upset (which she does, loudly). She's always been fairly easygoing, but she'd still throw fits and get angry about weird shit just like any other kid - but those incidents are getting more rare, and she's much more open to negotiation than she used to be before (and she's utterly cutthroat about it too, which makes Jess so proud he could explode). She's much freer with the hugs and kisses, and her new favorite thing is to hide somewhere, around a corner or beneath a table, and then launch herself out at Jess' legs yelling "Daddy I love you _so much!_ " at the top of her lungs. Jess will never get tired of that one, even when it's in public. (Especially when it's public, maybe. They got a free pizza because of it once.)

"I think this is what they mean when they say 'enjoy it while it lasts,'" Boy Chris tells him. "Before she grows up and hates you, or whatever."

"Don't even joke about that please," Jess says seriously.

Chris laughs at him. "My mom used to say that I was her karma for the early 70s."

"Sounds like something Luke would say." Jess isn't counting on much sympathy from the Stars Hollow branch of the family, once Willa gets into the moody teen years. To say the least. "You know what the weirdest part of all this is? I actually understand why parents have such dorky senses of humor. They can't help it, dude. It happens _to_ them."

Chris snorts. "No, man, don't tell me that."

"I actually laughed out loud at a Garfield comic the other day. And I was in line at the grocery store once, and I was talking to this old lady about her pet dog for like, twenty fucking minutes. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I got home."

Chris is laughing, his hair vibrating with the motion of his shoulders. "Her dog?"

"She had some funny stories! I thought it was charming." Jess shakes his head at himself. "I'm never getting laid again."

"Brother, the only thing standing in your way in that department is your own damn self," Chris says. "Do you have any idea how hot you are? Just, like, normally."

"No," Jess says dryly, "usually women sleep with me because of my sparkling personality."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Okay, stupid question. But do you know how hot you are with a cute kid on your hip? That's like, super duper mega hot. All kinds of extra hot points."

"You've just got some dumbass theory about single dads," Jess says. "You know, the men you somehow convince to have sex with you aren't exactly a representative sample size."

"Oh please," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you're so far gone into the Dad Zone that you don't notice all those goo-goo eyes aimed your way. You know that hostess at Pizza East, with the tattoos? She practically goes into heat every time you bring Willa in with you."

"She does not," Jess says, scoffing.

"She'd roll over and pant for you, if you'd just say the word," Chris says.

Jess wrinkles his nose, both at the gross innuendo and the idea itself. "How am I supposed to do that, with Willa around? Just...date people? Like it's no big deal? That's not happening."

"You holdin' out for marriage then?" Chris shrugs. "Ain't gonna happen if you don't date first. Unless you got someone in mind already."

"Yeah, right." Jess sighs. "My mom had so many boyfriends when I was growin' up, she practically had a revolving door to her bedroom. I don't exactly remember that aspect of my childhood _fondly_."

"You'd be careful about it," Chris says, still dismissive. "There's ways to do it without hurting her. Plenty of parents pull it off."

An old conversation with Rory comes to Jess' mind, one of the many intense, accidentally-too-honest ones they'd had when they were kids. _My mom's dated a bunch of guys_ too, Rory had said, but she hadn't sounded bitter about it. At the time, Jess had felt a little bitter about that. Bitter, and sort of arrogantly self-righteous, in the way he'd thought he was the only one with real problems, back then. _Sometimes it gets a little weird...but when we talk about it, we can usually figure out why. Usually it's because the guy sucks, you know. But - I just want her to be happy. I hope she finds the right one eventually - the one who doesn't suck._

The right one for Lorelai had been there all along, turns out, once they were both ready to admit it. Jess doesn't think he's going to get that lucky.

"Maybe when she's older," Jess says.

"She asked about her mom yet?" Chris asks, casually, like it's nothing.

Jess glares at him. "No."

"You know what you're gonna say when she does?"

"Of course I do," Jess says, a little offended. "She loves you very much, but she wasn't ready to be a mom. Do you have any questions? The end."

Chris doesn't push, thankfully, but he does smirk, a little. In a nice way. "Sounds good to me."

"I told her about Angelo, anyway," Jess says. "I called him 'your mother's brother.' She didn't seem all that curious."

"Maybe not out loud," Chris says. "She might be talking a lot more, but she's still a pretty quiet kid, overall. She'll bring it up later, for sure."

"Yeah," Jess agrees.

"How's that going, anyway?"

"Slowly," Jess says. "They talked for a little bit on Skype last week. Willa wasn't too interested, but - when she meets him in person, maybe."

"When's that gonna happen?" Chris asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno. The kid's in college, remember? So he's busy and broke. And I'm sure as hell not taking Willa all the way to New Hampshire for this, so - he can wait."

"Fair enough." Chris gives him a long, level look. "You know what you're doing, huh?"

Angelo's a sweet guy. Jess thinks about his latest email, the long paragraph about a professor that he adores, the pictures of him and Caroline at some tailgate party thing, hugging by a bonfire and looking like the stock photo in a picture frame at K-Mart. He sent Willa a board game for her third birthday - Snakes and Ladders - and told Jess a story about how much he'd loved playing it when he was little, successfully (and cleverly) talking around Mari's presence in the memory the entire time. Yeah, Jess knows what he's doing.

Chris claps him on the shoulder, not needing him to actually reply. "Alright, brother," he says. "Alright."

* * *

"Daddy I wanna tell you a story," Willa says, that night at bedtime.

"I love stories," Jess says, and settles in.

"Okay so there was a girl named Rebecca and she always had her hair in two ponytails and it looked like this," Willa says, grabbing her hair and gathering it into two fistfuls on either side of her head. "And she had big hands and _really_ big feet and her friends all told her again and again don't walk on us, Rebecca! Don't do it!"

"Oh man," Jess says, "Rebecca wasn't the type to listen, was she?"

Willa shakes her head gravely. "Because, because she liked walking and she couldn't help it because her feet were like - " Willa pauses, and then says something that sounds a bit like 'washing machine,' but Jess has a feeling that's not right. He nods like he understands anyway. "And so she walked on the all of them and they all died, and Rebecca was sad."

"Wow." Jess waits for her to continue, but Willa just flops down in his lap, looking content. "Is that the end?"

"Yeah."

"Kind of a bummer story."

"Yeah," Willa says flippantly. "Can I have some ice cream?"

"No," Jess says, as gently as possible. Willa huffs a little, but she seems to have been expecting that answer. "We should write that story down. Then you could write more, and once you have enough, you can publish a book."

"Like you?"

"Sure, like me."

Willa thinks about this for a second. "Okay."

"Okay. We'll do it in the morning."

"Yeah," Willa agrees sleepily.

Jess scoops her up, getting her arranged in bed the right way, and kisses her nose. Willa grabs his chin and kisses his nose right back, grinning up at him like she's pulled off a really good practical joke. Jess certainly feels bamboozled.

"Love you, Daddy," Willa says, sweet as anything.

"I love you back, Willa bird. More than anything."

" _Please_ can I have some ice cream?"

"No," Jess says again, and covers her face with the blanket. Willa sputters, and kicks at him blindly, landing one solid blow in his solar plexus that has him gasping for air. She laughs at him, of course, and it takes him another half an hour to get her settled down again.

It's a good night.


	21. interlude - Kirk

from a prompt by mirandahamiltons on tumblr

* * *

"I'm certified in CPR, I carry portable first aid kids in both of my cars as well as my moped, and I can provide letters of recommendation from prominent members of the community. Also Lulu, but due to the conflict of interest, I'm hesitant to include her in the final count."

"Is one of them Taylor?" Luke asks.

Kirk blinks slowly. "No," he says cagily.

"Granpa down," Willa demands, waving her hands at the floor. "Down, down!" Luke sighs and lets her go, and she immediately weaves her way between the tables, making a beeline for her favorite spot at the window. She either likes people-watching, or she's planning to rob the Cash 'n Go across the street; it could go either way with this kid.

"Do you always bring you with her to work?" Kirk asks, eyes squinty.

"I'm not working," Luke protests, "I just came in to give Lane her paycheck. We're about to leave." Lane, who is taking a suspiciously long time to ring in someone's order at the register, snorts loudly. Luke glares at the side of her head. "We were!"

"I didn't say anything," Lane says, eyes wide. She turns to Kirk. "He definitely doesn't check up on me on his days off anymore. That would ludicrous, considering how long I've been working here - "

"Shut up," says Luke.

"It's not exactly a child-friendly environment," Kirk says.

"She's fine _,_ Kirk."

"You have a deep fat fryer back there. Do you know the safety risks of working in a kitchen with a deep fat fryer, Luke?"

"Yes I know the safety risks of a deep fat fryer, Kirk, I've been deep fat frying since before you were born."

"Oil spillage," Kirk says, "oil burns. Fumes. Chemicals. Burning chemicals. Slips from oil spillage. Burns from oil spillage. Oil spillage fumes - "

"Please stop saying 'oil spillage,'" says Luke.

"I worked at a McDonald's for three and a half weeks when I was seventeen." Kirk's gaze goes distant. "I never did regain full use of my right second toe."

Lane snorts again, then quickly disappears into the kitchen. Luke takes a deep breath. "I think we're good on the babysitting, Kirk. Thanks for the offer."

"Are you sure? My prices are very competitive."

"I'm sure they are, but you know - Jess brings her down here so she can visit us, not because he needs someone to watch her," Luke says. "The whole point is to, you know. Spend time with her."

"Oh," says Kirk blandly. He frowns minutely. "Yes, I see. Family."

"Yeah, Kirk, you've got one of those too, remember?" Luke says.

"Granpa, I see the flower man the flower man is there!" Willa yells. The diner's sole patrons, a couple of teenagers plowing through a plate of chili fries, look over at her and visibly cringe. "Granpa!"

"You see the flower man, huh?" Luke edges past Kirk and joins Willa at the window, unable to stop himself from smoothing her hair a little. It's as wild as Jess' used to be when he was a kid - he always looked like he'd just come in from a windstorm, no matter how hard Liz tried to keep it looking neat. "Looks like he's got your favorites today. Maybe we can get some for Aunt Lorelai on the way home."

"Orchids," Willa says proudly, having finally conquered the pronunciation. Luke grins widely at her.

"Morty overcharges," Kirk supplies. "You can get a way better deal at Doose's."

"Yeah, can't imagine why I'd avoid that place," Luke grumbles. Kirk doesn't seem to hear him.

"Although he usually has a better selection. Hello," Kirk continues. Willa peers up at him suspiciously, twisting both of her hands into the little button holes on her sweater. It's something she does when she's nervous; Luke puts his hand on her head again, and she relaxes a little. "I'm Kirk."

"Hi," says Willa, and hides her face in Luke's leg.

"If you're interested in flower arrangements, I used to do that professionally," Kirk says. "Orchids are very versatile, even if they do run a bit expensive. Did you know vanilla comes from orchids?"

Willa stares up at him, frowning and silent.

"The Ancient Greeks used to drink it to increase their virility," Kirk says.

"Ookay," Luke says, and picks Willa up. "Well, this was fun. Kirk, thanks for stopping by. Willa, can you say goodbye to Kirk?"

"Goodbye to Kirk," Willa mumbles, burying her head in Luke's shoulder.

"Goodbye Willa," Kirk says gravely. "Luke, keep me updated about the babysitting situation. Would you mind giving Jess my card, too? Just in case."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to receive it," Luke says dryly.


	22. Chapter 22

One Thursday morning, Jess is sleepwalking his way through a shower when his cell phone starts ringing. He lets the first one go to voicemail, but when it immediately starts ringing again, he frowns and hops out.

It's Lorelai. "Don't freak out," she says, and Jess' shoulders go tense. "Luke had an accident."

"What kind of accident?" Jess demands, already moving towards his dresser, tripping halfway on a stray toy and cursing out loud. Willa, still asleep in her little bed by the window, doesn't even flinch at the noise.

"He fell off the roof." Lorelai sounds remarkably calm, but then again Jess still doesn't know her intimately enough to tell the difference between her real calm and the forced kind, the one you pull over your panic to keep from falling apart. "He was fixing one of those stupid gutters, the one with the screws that keep coming loose? And the surface was wet from the rain last night and he slipped." Lorelai barks out a sharp laugh, and not a particularly nice one. "There's a joke in there somewhere I'm sure - loose screws, rainy roofs. I'll come up with one later."

"Lorelai," Jess says, pausing with one fist clenched in a clean t-shirt. "Is he okay?"

"We, uh," Lorelai says, her voice wavering. "Well, they said - his leg's broken, we know that much. It could've been worse, that's what the paramedics - well this one paramedic - said to me, she said it could've been really, really bad. So he was lucky." Lorelai laughs again, and Jess winces. "Lucky! He's a lucky guy, my husband."

"Lorelai," Jess says again. His head is spinning a little.

"We're at Hartford General," Lorelai quickly says, mercifully. "He - they took him away and I haven't talked to anyone yet, they said - it's his back. They think it might be - they're worried about his spinal cord." She clears her throat. "The paramedic told me that, too."

Jess takes one deep breath, then another. Looks over at Willa, who is still sleeping peacefully, and closes his eyes, just for a second. There's something hot and painful in the middle of his chest, throbbing like an open wound. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Is there someone there with you?"

"Sookie's on her way," Lorelai says weakly. "I did call Liz, but she didn't pick up at first and I didn't want to leave it on her voicemail. I wasn't brave enough to call my mom. Maybe I'll do that later, after the joke."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No, you've got work, Jess, and Willa - "

"Chris and Matt can watch Willa, and I can work from anywhere, if I need to," Jess says. "I'll be there."

"You really don't have to," Lorelai says.

"It's why you called me, isn't it?" Jess asks. Lorelai doesn't reply, acknowledging the point with her silence. "I'll drop Willa off and text you when I'm on the road."

"Okay." Lorelai pauses for a second, and Jess imagines what she must look like, sitting in a waiting room, no makeup, her face drawn tight and miserable. "I haven't called Rory yet either. I'd have to convince her not to hop on the first plane back, and they'll fire her if she misses a broadcast, Jess."

"I'll call her for you. I'm meaner than you are," Jess says. He realizes abruptly that he's still standing in place, clutching the shirt, and forces himself into movement. He doesn't have much time. "Listen, are you alright? Can I let you go?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Lorelai says. "I'm - yeah. I'm fine. Thank you."

"I'll text you," Jess reminds her. "And I'll see you soon. Call me back if anything changes."

"Okay," Lorelai says, breathing shakily enough that Jess can hear it. "I will."

"Okay," Jess repeats, and forces himself to hang up. He stares at the floor for a second after, waiting for it to feel real. When it doesn't happen, he takes another breath, and goes to get ready.

* * *

He doesn't tell Willa anything, but she obviously knows something's up judging by how clingy she is when he leaves. He can hear her crying as he leaves Matthew's place, but Girl Chris is walking him firmly to the car, talking to him in her no-bullshit asshole-author voice, which is sort of helpful, in a condescending sort of way.

"Call us when you get there, Jess - Jess, are you listening?" She snaps her fingers in his face, rudely, and Jess swats them away, annoyed. "Good. Keep us updated. We'll wait for you before we tell Willa anything. Just don't worry about it, okay? You can stay there as long as you need to - she can spend the night with us, and Matt's on the list at her daycare, right? Right. Hey." She stops him right by the driver's side door, her hands on his shoulders. "Christopher will take care of your meetings, and I can help, too. They took me down to part time at the museum, remember? Jess." She peers into his eyes, mouth pursed. "Are you with me, here?"

"Yes," Jess says.

Chris eyes him, but he doesn't say anything else, and she frowns. "Okay," she says. "It's gonna be okay. He'll be fine, Jess."

"Sure," Jess says.

Chris sighs and then, absurdly, hugs him. Jess endures it stiffly, and glares at her as soon as she pulls away. She looks a little disgusted herself, and immediately crosses her arms defensively.

"Well," she says shortly, "you better get going."

Jess kicks himself back into action, opening the door. "Don't give her any sugar after five," he warns her. "She'll be up all night."

"What am I, the ditzy babysitter?" Chris snaps. "I _know_ that already. Get outta here."

"Going," Jess says, rolls his eyes, and goes.

The four hour trip back to Stars Hollow is quite possibly the longest of Jess' entire life, including the first time he drove it by himself, the day he moved out of Luke's place when he was eighteen. He gets maybe an hour into it and has to pull off to buy a pack of cigarettes, which he smokes the entirety of before he even makes it through Jersey. There's traffic on the Turnpike, because there's always traffic on the Turnpike, and Jess pulls off again to buy more cigarettes and call Lorelai back, who's been texting him updates all morning: _leg definitely broken_ , at eight-thirty. _Grade 3 concussion,_ at nine-forty, _which is the worst out of all of the concussion grades? Apparently?_ At ten-fifty: _They don't think anything's wrong with his spine but waiting for swelling to go down. He's awake but they won't let me see him yet, they say he's super out of it._

Jess lights up while the phone rings, the routine movement sort of comforting in a weird way. His lungs are burning, smoking so much after going cold turkey for so long, but his head is buzzing and the jittery get-the-fuck-out thing is gone, so he'll take it.

"Hey, where are you?" Lorelai says, and doesn't wait for an answer. "They're gonna let me visit soon, I think. I've got one of the nurses on the hook with the whole 'hysterical wife' routine. One more sad vending machine coffee and I'm in."

"Are you not a hysterical wife?" Jess asks dryly, which makes Lorelai laugh. A little, at least. "I passed Newark about twenty minutes ago. So still about two and a half hours, at least."

"Okay," Lorelai says, a little more subdued. "Lane is making up the diner apartment for you. I didn't think you'd want to stay at the house - not with Sookie and her two hundred thousand children there, anyway."

"That works. Thanks."

"I haven't called anyone else," Lorelai says, in the tone of a confession. "I keep thinking - Rory should know. And April - _God_ , April. She's gonna be so upset, she'll want to fly back right away too, but I already know Anna won't let her. And I just can't...bring myself to make the calls yet."

"I told you I'd call Rory. April, too. I'll do it right now if you want."

"No. No, it should come from me," Lorelai says firmly. "Thanks, though."

"Okay." Jess sighs, running one hand through his hair. "What about Liz, have you gotten ahold of her yet? I can call her, then."

"I can do it - "

"Lorelai, for God's sake, let me call _somebody_ ," Jess bursts out, surprising even himself with it. "I'm goin' crazy here."

Lorelai pauses for a second, then laughs again. They're not really happy laughs, Jess can tell. He's starting to hear the frayed edges in her voice, the same kind of edges he can hear in his own. "Okay, yeah. Have at it." Jess takes a drag of his cigarette, closing his eyes against the burn. "Are you doing okay? With the drive?"

"I mean, I sort of wish I'd sucked it up and just moved back to Brooklyn instead," Jess says, "or somewhere else that's not half a day away. But otherwise, yeah. Whatever."

"Could be worse," Lorelai says lightly. "You could've stayed in California."

Jess takes a moment to shudder. "God forbid."

"Well pull over if you have to. Luke's not going anywhere for the time being." Lorelai pauses for a second, making a small, sad humming noise. "You didn't tell Willa anything, did you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. That's good." She takes a deep breath. "I mean, I think he's gonna be okay. That's just the assumption we have to run with at this point. He's fine. He messed up his leg and bumped his head, but otherwise - he's _fine_."

"'Course he is," Jess says breezily.

"I do feel sort of bad about making fun of T.J. for doing this same thing all those times, though."

"Screw T.J.," Jess says, saying it like a joke, but really meaning it, in some deep down angry part of his head. That's the kicker, isn't it? Jess has been thinking about that all morning. How many fuckin' roofs has that idiot fallen off of, and walked away with nothing but bruises? Then Luke slips _once_ , and this happens? "Guy gets all the fuckin' luck."

The profanity slips out without his permission, and he winces as soon as he says it. But Lorelai just laughs, a little more genuinely than the others. "Your accent comes out a lot stronger when you're upset, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Couple hundred people, here and there, yeah."

"You kind of sound like a wise guy," Lorelai says, her voice strangely thick. "I should - I - God, I can't remember that quote from The Sopranos right now, but I swear to God, it was really funny and I was gonna make you say it - "

"I'll say whatever you want," Jess promises, and winces as Lorelai makes a choked-off noise of anguish, obviously on the verge of tears. He feels weirdly guilty, like he pushed her into that space, even though he knows she was probably already there - that she's been there all morning. "Hey. You've got Sookie there now, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine." Lorelai laughs again, hard-edged. "I've got so many people checking up on me, it's actually kind of inconvenient - Babette saw the ambulance pull up, so the whole town knows by now. I've got well-wishers comin' out of my ears."

"Good." Jess pauses. "I should call Liz right away then, before she hears it from somewhere else."

"Oh God! Yeah. Yeah, do that," she says quickly. "I'll let you go. Just drive careful, okay?"

Jess doesn't know when Lorelai started saying shit like that to him, and he doesn't know when he started to expect it from her either, but it's the sort of thing that tends to sneak up on him, anyway. Like falling in love with someone you didn't see coming, or waking up one day and realizing that you're a good father. A kind of truth that existed before he saw it was there, and the moment of epiphany is always quiet, hidden in-between bigger moments - easy to overlook, but so very hard to ignore once he's found it.

"I will," he promises, and hangs up before she can say anything else. It's just a little too much for him, all things considering.

* * *

The call with Liz gets him through all the way into Massachusetts, mostly because it's so fucking awful that he stops noticing how long this drive is taking. His mother is good at some things, but stress and worry isn't one of them, and predictably, they get into a fight.

"I just don't understand how you've known about this since seven o'clock this morning, and you're just telling me _now_ ," Liz is saying, words strung high and tight. "For God's sake, you live two states away! Lorelai lives down the fuckin' street!"

"She was _upset_ , Ma, and she couldn't get ahold of you at first - "

"So she just stopped trying?!"

Jess bangs one hand against the wheel in frustration, both at the conversation and the slow pace of traffic, still crawling up the highway like goddamn turtles. "Mom, Luke's in the hospital, could we maybe table this fight until we know he's okay? At least?"

Liz makes a choking sound, like an angry sob. "This is just like all of you, really, it is. I'm the last to know, last in line, all the time. The joke, right? Like fine, make fun of me all you want, but to leave me out of something like _this_? I can't believe it, Jess, I really can't - "

"Jesus Christ Ma, this is not about you! Like just _once_ could you suck it up and not race to throw yourself on some imaginary fucking altar?"

Liz starts crying angrily. "I can't believe this," she spits. "I just can't. How stupid is he, up on the roof in the rain, anyway? What a stupid, goddamn _fucking_ idiot."

"Shut up," Jess snaps. "Don't blame this on him. It's not his fault."

"Of course you'd say that, but when T.J. - "

Jess hangs up on her, and lights another cigarette. Another hour and a half to go.

* * *

He pulls over again in Waterbury, because his hands are shaking and he's low on gas. It's almost one o'clock, and he realizes abruptly, standing in line at the gas station, that he hasn't eaten anything all day.

He buys another pack of menthols, and a bag of pretzels, and something vaguely burger-shaped in a plastic shell, which he forces himself to eat in the parking lot. Then he has to go back in and buy some water, because he feels nauseous, and also, his fucking lighter has stopped working.

The clerk doesn't blink twice, but there's a woman standing outside an SUV at the curb with a little kid at her side, both of whom give him identical suspicious looks. Jess walks past them quickly and feels like he's sixteen again, remembering the eyes on his back as he wandered through the aisles at Doose's Supermarket. Is he gonna steal something, or just make an off-color joke? Is that patch on his jacket a gang symbol, or just a metal band? Why hasn't he washed his hair today, is he on drugs? Where's that uncle of his, anyway, does he know what's going on here?

One time, as a joke, Jess made a bingo card of all the stupid shit that people said about him whenever they thought he couldn't hear, and hung it up on the fridge. As far as most of his jokes went, it wasn't nearly as elaborate as the chalk outline, but Luke still made fun of him for using different colors of pen for each square. Then he yelled about Jess being disrespectful, and if he didn't want people to talk shit about him then maybe he shouldn't _be_ a shit, and can you really blame Mrs. Rochester for thinking you're a thug when all you do is glare and snap at her every time she comes in? She's old and crotchety, Jess! Ain't no changing it now, what do you expect? You're not gonna get very far in life until you learn how to catch flies with honey, kid. That's your damn life lesson for the day.

Then two days later Jess told Mrs. Rochester to go buy her coffee somewhere else if she was so damn upset about it being too strong, and she called him a thug again and stormed out. Three hours after that, Jess went upstairs after his shift and found the thug square on the bingo card crossed out, with one of those blunt pencils that Luke always had behind his ear. They didn't ever talk about it out loud, but Jess would find a couple twenties on his nightstand every time they made it to a bingo.

He's still got that bingo card somewhere, Jess is sure of it. He took it with him when he moved out. He left most of his books, and his clothes, and even his damn stereo, the one he'd saved up months to buy, but he took that motherfucking bingo card. Jess leans his forehead on the steering wheel and thinks about pulling it off the fridge at the last second, stuffing it in his duffel and trying hard not to think about it. Pulling it out every time he moved into a new place, and shoving it somewhere out of sight, and then panicking a few weeks later when he couldn't find it. Pathetic. Absolutely fucking pathetic.

His phone rings again, and Jess jerks back so quickly he almost clips his head on the visor. Liz, again. He hits 'decline' and turns the car on, gets the heat running. It's not winter yet, but it's getting there, and Jess wonders if it was maybe ice on the roof, not just water. Wonders if maybe it'd would've made a difference either way.

Forty-five minutes.

* * *

He drives around Hartford for a frustrating half an hour, getting turned around. He's never been to this hospital before - he finally has to use the GPS on his phone, which takes him some weird twisty way that doesn't make any damn sense. The angles of the building rising up on the horizon, when they finally appear, seem like a bizarre suburban mirage.

Lorelai meets him at the front doors, clutching her cell phone in one hand. She's in sweats and a t-shirt, her hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, and she's wearing her glasses, instead of her contacts. She looks miserable.

"You made it," she says, and reaches out for a hug. Jess steps right past his flinch and into her arms, tentatively wrapping his own around her waist. Lorelai sighs out loud, and squeezes his shoulders, and Jess realizes, with a sudden drop of his stomach, that he cares about her. Not just because she's Rory's mother, or Luke's wife, or Willa's pseudo-aunt, but - just because she's Lorelai. It's a weird thing.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Not really," Lorelai answers, mumbling it over his shoulder, quiet enough that he's not quite sure he heard her right. But when she pulls back, she's smiling. "C'mon. I just came from his room - he's awake again. If we hurry you can catch him."

"Is he - "

"Out of it," Lorelai says, tugging at his arm. Jess follows. " _Super_ out of it. And in pain." She grimaces, stabbing the button on the elevator. "Better than the alternative, though. They still won't know about his spine for awhile yet. They gave him some stuff to take the swelling down, but they can't give him much for the pain because of the concussion, so the next couple days will be rough. Especially since they have to keep waking him up all the time." She frowns up at the numbers, and stabs the button again impatiently.

"Okay," Jess says slowly.

The doors finally open, and Lorelai leads him into a mercifully empty elevator. "He looks really bad, Jess. Don't get freaked out. They have him in traction."

"I wasn't exactly expecting him to look good," Jess says.

"Still," Lorelai insists. "It's...intimidating. I wanted to warn you."

There's nothing Jess can say to that. The rest of the elevator ride is spent in silence.

* * *

Luke's in the ICU, which surprises Jess for only a split second, before he walks inside and immediately feels sick to his stomach again. Lorelai was right - he does look really fucking bad.

There's a nurse doing something at his right arm when he walks in, which Jess can't quite see, due to some strange padding propped up between his arms and legs, one of which is in a sort of splint-looking thing, elevated by a sling hanging from a bar above the bed. His neck is in a brace, with a bizarre-looking strap across his forehead, and he looks pale, thin, and strangely small. Jess takes a deep breath, and immediately regrets it when that sickly-sweet hospital smell hits his nose.

"Okay," he says, and Lorelai touches his shoulder gently. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay," she replies, and takes his arm again, tugging him forward. "Hey, Elise. The prodigal nephew's here."

The nurse looks up and smiles. "Hey, we've been waiting for you all day! Haven't we, Luke?"

Jess looks down at his uncle's face and realizes that his eyes are open - barely, but they're there. He doesn't say anything.

"Jess, right?" Elise says. She smiles again, friendly in a brisk sort of way, like most medical people usually are. "I'm Elise, I'll be taking care of you guys for the rest of the evening. We've just been getting to know each other - you're just in time."

Jess moves carefully to Luke's side, feeling like he's walking on water. "Well that's a change," he says. "I usually have pretty rotten timing."

Luke's eyes flutter open and shut, and he makes a noise that's somewhat like a grunt. Jess feels sick again.

"Hey, Uncle Luke."

Jess holds his breath, but Luke doesn't seem to react. He looks over at Lorelai, who is staring determinedly at Luke's feet, spinning her cell phone against her thigh.

"Just keep talking to him," Elise encourages. "But if he falls asleep, let him be."

"Okay," Jess says, and looks back down at Luke. His eyes are still open, which should mean something, right? "So, the roof, huh? You auditioning for the next Santa Claus movie or what?"

Lorelai snorts softly. Luke still doesn't react.

"Hey." Jess leans down, and touches his forearm - the only place that seems even relatively safe to touch. "Uncle Luke. It's Jess, man. Are you with me?"

Luke mumbles something out of nowhere, his eyes closing briefly, and then opening again. Jess firms his grip on his arm. "Jess?"

"Yeah, Luke. It's me."

"Should be in school," Luke grumbles, the words slurring together. Jess blinks at him, his lungs burning again suddenly, worse than what the cigarettes managed to do. "Shouldn't - " he mumbles something else that Jess can't catch, and his eyes close again.

Jess looks up at the women helplessly. Lorelai's face is set, her gaze directed out the window, and Elise just smiles again, sympathetic.

"It's common for people to be disoriented, with a severe concussion like this one," she says, her voice lowering to a murmur. She leans over and adjusts something else, peering into Luke's face. "We should let him rest."

Jess takes a breath, tries to move away, but he can't quite move his hand. He wants to move it, thinks about moving it, but it just stays where it is, on Luke's arm, right above his wrist.

"Jess," Lorelai nudges, and he watches his own hand unclench, fall away. "Come on. Let's get some coffee."

"We'll page you when he wakes up again," Elise says kindly, reaching out and touching Jess' shoulder, the same way Lorelai had. Jess looks at her hand strangely, feeling weirdly detached from the gesture, like he's watching her do it to someone else.

Lorelai tugs him out of the room again, and Jess can't do anything but follow, feeling like a stoned puppy. She deposits him outside in the hallway, and Jess leans against the wall for a second, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, so," she says, and trails off into nothingness.

"Yeah," he says.

Lorelai squeezes her cell phone against her chest, and Jess leans a little more heavily against the wall. Down the hallway, a phone rings, and he hears someone answer it. Somebody is speaking over the intercom, and a man in purple scrubs walks briskly past, his eyes glued to a smartphone.

"Have you talked to Rory yet?" Jess asks finally.

Lorelai nods. "She's going to fly out next week. She's arranging it with her boss now. And Anna's going to talk to April and call me later."

"Good." Jess rubs his eyes again. "I told Liz. Didn't go well."

"Yeah," Lorelai says, dry and tired, "I heard."

They fall into silence again.

Jess sighs after a minute. His chest is still burning, and he wants another cigarette. "You said something about coffee?"

"Grade A, organic vending machine," Lorelai says. "Come on. Sookie's holding seats for us. You can do the freaked out thing down there. We've been doing it all day, trust me, we've got the routine down."

"Great, I love having company for that," Jess says.

Lorelai smirks, and takes his arm again. _Get it together,_ Jess tells himself, and lets her lead him away again.

* * *

i'm sorry! don't hate me! i've had this planned from the beginning! (luke will be fine, i promise!)

also i don't know if they ever mentioned what part of nyc jess is from in canon, but i like the idea of him being from brooklyn. so, he's from brooklyn. (because come on, he does kind of look like a wise guy.)


	23. Chapter 23

The next couple of weeks just crawl by, an endless parade of blurred-together nights and days so long and arduous that every second feels like an hour. Luke heals slowly, haltingly, and Rory's arrival the following week only makes it all feel that much worse. It's a horrible reason to see her in person again, and they all are acutely aware of it.

"I can't believe this," Rory keeps saying sadly, over cups and cups and cups of coffee. "He's fixed that gutter a million times. He's fixed a million gutters! He's _never_ fallen before. Ever."

"Because he's careful," Jess says, and that's the other thing he can't stop thinking about. Luke's the most cautious bastard anyone's ever met. He reads safety manuals, wears hardhats and gloves, has emergency phone numbers on laminated cards on the refrigerator. The first thing he did when he got a smartphone was put a list of everyone's allergies in it, for God's sake. And now, this. "But accidents happen to careful people too, sometimes."

"Why was he trying to do that so early in the morning, anyway?"

"He wanted to get it done before going in to open the diner," Jess says. "He was worried about the rainstorm clogging up the pipes, apparently."

Rory shakes her head, her face pinched. "He always worried about that stuff," she says thickly. "One of my earliest memories is of him redoing the waterproof sealing on the deck. I couldn't have been more than six or seven? I remember watching him work from my bedroom window."

Jess reaches out and touches her elbow. Rory leans into it silently.

"He told me it was because he didn't want my mom to slip," she says softly.

Jess nudges at her arm, and nods towards her coffee. Rory smiles weakly, and buries her face in it again, which seems to help. At least a little.

Luke himself is in and out over the first few days, the concussion pulling double duty of keeping him in pain and pretty disoriented, most of the time. The doctors rule out brain damage fairly quickly, which is a relief, and by the following Monday, Luke is cognizant enough to hold actual conversations - and bitch loudly at anyone in his immediate vicinity - which is what they needed, apparently, to get him on pain meds for his leg and back. Then after that, he just sleeps a lot.

Lorelai splits her time back and forth between the hospital and the Inn, and Jess tries to arrange his time so that he can cover the slots when she's not there. Chris and Matt have been reorganizing their usual workload at the publishing house, sending Jess a majority of the paperwork stuff so they can take over the in-person meetings and consultations, so Jess can get most of it done on his laptop, next to Luke's bed or the patient lounge or wherever it is that he needs to be. The rest of the time he spends at the diner, helping Lane cover the empty shifts, or running interference for Lorelai with Liz and T.J., who keep showing up to pick hysterical fights with each other in the waiting room and stress everybody out.

Rory spends just as much time at the hospital herself, but she has to go back to California fairly quickly, not being able to take much time off of work. Lorelai spends a solid hour talking her out of quitting, the afternoon that she's due to leave.

"He's out of the woods now, okay? We're still waiting to see about his spine, but we expected that, and everything else is healing. You can fly back out to see him again after you film the next batch of segments."

"I just feel so awful, I should be here," Rory says, stricken. Jess tries not to eavesdrop, but there's no way not to. They haven't exactly made much effort to hide these conversations from him, anyway. "I don't know what I was thinking, taking a job so far away! This is my home, I belong here."

"You were thinking that it's your dream job, that it would open a billion and one doors for you, which it _has_ ," Lorelai urges. "You were thinking about traveling the world and doing important things, which is what you're doing! Honey, you know that Luke would kill you if you sacrificed all that for him. He wouldn't have even wanted you to take time off."

"Yeah but that's just Luke," Rory says. "He never asks for stuff that he wants."

Jess can't stop himself from inhaling sharply at that, jerking his hands back from his laptop like they've been stung. Neither Rory nor Lorelai seem to notice.

"Listen to me," Lorelai says intently, "there's nothing you can do here. And I know how that sounds, and believe me, it's not that I don't _want_ you here, because God, babe, the second you walked through that door was the first second since this happened that I didn't feel like I was falling to pieces. But, practically speaking - you need to keep your job, you _want_ to keep your job, and the only thing we're going to be doing over the next few days is sitting here and watching him sleep. We can call you every night - and I will, _trust me_ you will rue the day that you decided to allow me to have your phone number - and if anything changes we will tell you the second it does, and you can work things out with Kara so you can fly back and see him again soon. Okay? We'll work it out. But you've gotta keep living your life. That's what Luke would tell you."

Rory's nodding, Jess can see out of the corner of his eye. "I just - God, Mom - "

"I know, honey. It's okay."

Jess watches them fold together like puzzle pieces, Rory's head fitting into the space between Lorelai's neck and shoulder like it belongs there. Which it does, really. Jess turns his gaze back to his laptop and tries very hard not to think about Willa.

Luke seems almost normal, the morning she takes off, managing to stay awake for a longer stretch of time than he's managed so far. Rory sits with him for a long time, talking with him quietly, and Jess and Lorelai both find other places to be. By the time he makes his way back, Luke is asleep again, but Rory is smiling, tears on her cheeks but looking steadier than she has in days.

"He told me get my ass back to L.A.," she tells Jess, and laughs. "Mom was right."

"I hate it when Moms do that," Jess says, and nudges her with his elbow. Rory nudges him back, a shaky grin spreading across her face.

* * *

Jess doesn't actually know what's more exhausting - being at the hospital, or covering for Luke at the diner. It's _all_ exhausting, really - the ugliest business of being hurt is all the real world complications that nobody thinks about until it happens, like insurance paperwork and carpooling and bank account passwords that nobody but Luke remembers. Still, Jess could do without the crowd of mourners that congregate at the front counter every day.

"He's not paralyzed, is he?" Taylor asks. "That's a real risk with spinal injuries. I read about it."

"No, Taylor," Jess says.

"Because if he's going to need special accommodation, then there are some options that I've been looking into - "

"He's not paralyzed, Taylor," Jess says.

" - that crosswalk for certain needs revamping, and while it is written into the town bylaws that all legal businesses must have a wheelchair accessible entrance, the legal rules on what constitutes 'wheelchair accessible' are woefully vague - "

"His spine is fine, Taylor, they're just being cautious now," Jess says, raising his voice.

" - willing to attend the town meeting tonight, perhaps as Luke's official advocate? I want to make sure his needs are being met, and I know Lorelai is very distraught, and understandably so - "

"I have to go, Taylor," Jess says, and refills the guy's coffee in as definitive a manner as possible.

"Well, let me know," Taylor says, and Jess escapes quickly into the kitchen. Maybe 'mourners' isn't quite the right word.

The other problem is that the daily upkeep of the diner is a hell of a lot more complicated than Jess - or anyone, really - ever thought. Having run the business almost singlehandedly for over twenty years, Luke hadn't exactly needed to make to-do lists anymore, and Jess quickly figures out that there's a whole lot of shit that he did every day that nobody else really knew about. Jess accidentally ruins an entire shipment of yogurt when it gets dropped off one morning at the back door while he's at the hospital, for instance. He gets back a few hours later to find four boxes of spoiled Greek vanilla with honey, because _apparently_ Luke gets some kind of bargain bin deal with a local grocery supplier, the caveat being that he keep it top secret.

"Who does this?!" Jess asks Lane, who is frantically Googling yogurt prices, trying to find a reasonable way to replace the lost food before tomorrow's breakfast service, "who buys yogurt from some guy in an alleyway? Seriously?"

"Don't look at me, I always thought he was going out there to sneak cigarettes or something," Lane says. Jess raises an incredulous eyebrow at her. "What? It's possible. His whole eat-healthy thing always seemed a little too emphatic to me. Like he's compensating for something, you know?"

Jess snorts and collapses at the table next to her, stealing his laptop back. "Never mind. Look, we can just hit up the Sam's Club in New Britain. I'll put it on my credit card, it's fine."

"No, I'll do it." Lane points at him threateningly, before he can protest. "Shut up. It's mostly my fault, okay? I'm the one who actually works here, I should've known there was something up when our ex-dairy guy left us that passive-aggressive voicemail."

"Lane, come on. You don't have to."

"Well, neither do you," Lane points out imperiously. Jess concedes the point with a laugh. "Maybe we can do something to cut consumption. The smoothies aren't that popular in the fall and winter, anyway, and that's mostly what we use yogurt for. There aren't that many people who order the breakfast parfait, either."

"We can't take them off the menu entirely. All those kids who come in after school will riot."

"No, but we can...put a time restriction on them or something. Ooh!" Lane perks up. "Secret smoothies. We'll take them off the chalkboard, but if someone orders one, we'll still make it."

"That'll have to do." Jess sighs, clicking through to Luke's business account, which he's only just started to make sense of. "Do you know what he spends fourteen eighty-six on every second Thursday? Because in the books he's just labeled it as 'bullshit,' which is a little worrying."

"Oh, that's the town surcharge for including the diner's name and phone number in the phone book every month," Lane says, and winces. "Crap, yesterday was the second Thursday, wasn't it? We gotta remember to give that to Kirk before Monday, if you're more than four days late Taylor takes you out of the directory for two months as a penalty."

"Jesus Christ, that can't be legal."

"It is when Kirk prints them in his garage," Lane says wryly. "I think Taylor wrote him a special law so he could get a tax break on the printing machine."

Jess groans, covering his face with his hands.

"Buck up, comrade. It'll get easier," Lane says sympathetically, patting his shoulder.

"Really? Because I have like four different places I need to be tomorrow, and two of them involve my mother." Jess sighs. "I still don't know how to handle this festival thing he signed up for. Fifty pizzas? Really? He doesn't even serve pizza here."

"I suppose this would be a bad time to tell you that I have another ultrasound tomorrow afternoon," Lane says apologetically. Jess blinks at her stupidly. "I'm so sorry! The doctor's insisting. She's worried about my blood pressure."

"It's okay," Jess says, through gritted teeth. "Your health comes first. And the baby."

Lane shoots a resentful look at her stomach, which has only barely begun to show. "I could reschedule. Try and get an appointment in the morning, so I can still cover lunch - "

"Lane. No. Go to the doctor. I'll figure it out." Jess waves his hand at her vaguely. "And, you know. Good luck, or whatever."

"I think I used up all my good luck with Dylan," Lane says sadly. "This one is giving me backaches and making me puke every time I smell Chinese food. Already making my life difficult."

"It's probably gonna be a girl then," Jess says, and winces as Lane punches him.

He finds a groove eventually, even if the juggling means that things keep getting dropped. Chris and Matt keeping Willa safe and entertained helps Jess immensely, but her absence is still an intense, low-level ache that never really goes away. It doesn't help that she's clearly upset about Jess being gone, either. As much fun as she's having on her vacation at Aunt Chris and Uncle Matt's house, her nightly phone calls with Jess always end in tears.

He wants to tell her what's going on, but he wants her to hear it from him, and he wants to do it in person. There's no way he can drop everything for an entire weekend, though, and the drive is too long to do twice in one day. So he sticks with the uncomfortable status quo, not really knowing what else to do.

"She needs to feel safe, and she obviously doesn't, staying with Chris and Matt and not knowing what's going on," Lorelai advises one night, after witnessing one of these painful phone calls. "You should go back home, Jess. She needs you more than Luke does right now."

"No," Jess says.

"Jess - "

"Are you going to give me the same speech you gave Rory?" Jess interrupts. "That I have to keep living my life? Because you know, the difference is, I wouldn't _have_ a life, if it weren't for Luke."

That shuts Lorelai up.

"She's fine for now. She gets upset on the phone because it reminds her that she misses me, but most of the time she's having a blast. You should see the pictures Chris keeps sending." Jess runs one hand through his hair tiredly. "And I'm in a kind of unique position here, to be able to help - which you still need," Jess reminds her, waving one hand at his laptop. "I really can work from anywhere. That's the benefit to being a founding member of your own publishing house. The office is just for parties and stuff, you know. We don't actually need to be there every day, and Matthew's way better at the face to face meetings, anyway."

"Man," Lorelai quips, "sounds a lot better than the inn gig. Maybe I should've gone into the book business instead."

"Nah. Print is dying," Jess tells her. "But people will always need places to sleep."

Lorelai laughs, shaking her head. They've been kicked out of Luke's room for the night, but neither of them have made a move to leave, yet. They're both making brand new homes on this couch, at this point.

"I'll bring her here," Jess decides out loud. "It's not like there isn't room for us both, at the apartment. And I can figure out the rest. Daycare, and all that."

"Oh jeez, don't worry about that," Lorelai says, rolling her eyes. "There's an entire town full of dubiously-qualified people who'd jump at the chance to babysit. And hey, I've got _some_ experience in that area, too."

"I guess," Jess says, huffing out a laugh.

"Just," Lorelai says, "if...you're sure. I know you want more time with him, and God, don't get me wrong, you've been such a life saver the past couple weeks. I don't know how we would've kept the diner running without you. But...you don't have to do any of this, you know that, right? You don't owe him anything just for...you know, being your uncle."

"Well you're wrong about that, but that's not the point," Jess tells her. "You need my help, Lorelai. Luke's not gonna be in shape to go back to work for awhile, and besides - _I'm_ not ready to leave yet."

Lorelai peers at him for a second, and then nods. "Okay." She smiles at him gently. "Thank you."

"Ah, look - don't make it weird or anything."

"What? I was just gonna say that I remembered the quote from The Sopranos," Lorelai says, eyes sparkling. "Well - I Googled it, and - here, hold on." She digs into her purse, pulling out her phone. "Okay, are you ready? Because I was thinking you should memorize it, so I can film it for Rory. Reading from a script will kind of ruin the dramatic effect."

"Oh my God," Jess says, and lets his head fall back against the couch.

"Okay. And, three, two - " Lorelai swipes one hand through the air dramatically, before affecting the worst wise-guy impression that Jess has ever heard, including Rory's. Which is pretty bad. "'We're soldiers. Soldiers don't go to hell. It's war. Soldiers kill other soldiers - "

"Please stop."

" - a situation where everyone involved knows the stakes and if you're gonna accept those stakes, you gotta do certain things. It's _bidness_.'" Lorelai waves her hand again. "Scene."

"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are, you know," Jess tells her, getting up to leave.

"Yes I am," Lorelai says, rolling her eyes. "Do you need me to read it one more time, or would you rather do a dry run now and then work out the kinks later?"

"Goodnight," Jess says pointedly. Lorelai just laughs at him again.

* * *

Jess himself doesn't get a whole lot of time with Luke, at least not one-on-one. They'd had a few conversations in the beginning, when Luke first started waking up, but after Rory left, things got a little hectic, and anyway, he was still pretty out of it then. He's doing a lot better now, but he's still pretty tired most of the time, falling asleep unexpectedly and drifting off into a sort of sleepy, half-aware state sometimes even when he is awake. So Jess tries to let Lorelai have as much time with him as possible - not to mention the daily Skype calls with April, who is hysterically upset about her mom's refusal to let her miss school to fly back. Luke gets worn out pretty quickly by those. Plus - with the diner, and his own work, and coordinating with Matt and the Chrises back home for Willa stuff, Jess is lucky he's got time to sleep.

Which is what he does sometimes at the hospital, although not on purpose. There's an armchair in Luke's room that's more comfortable than most beds Jess has owned in his life, and well. Sometimes shit just happens.

Luke, when he's awake, tends to enjoy this immensely. Usually he wakes Jess up by throwing stuff at him.

"What the fuck," Jess says, jerking away. There's a croissant in his lap, which he blearily lobs back in the general direction of the bed. "Quit it, asshole."

"Morning, sunshine," Luke says cheerfully. He's graduated to solid food and sitting up, although he still has to wear the neck brace, and his leg is in a full cast now, which looks annoying as hell, too. At least they ruled out the possibility of spinal cord damage fairly quickly - although Luke probably has a lot of back and neck problems in his future. Still - better than the alternative. Way, way better. "You were talking in your sleep. Figured I'd wake you up before you embarrassed yourself."

"I was not," Jess grumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Willa doesn't even throw food anymore, you know."

Luke makes the face he makes whenever he wants to shrug, or move his neck at all, and is remembering how annoying it is that he can't. "You look like shit, you know."

"Thanks," Jess says dryly. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, checks his watch. Only nine AM - he's not late, yet. Lane's covering breakfast today.

"Lorelai says that Willa's coming this weekend," Luke says, all faux-nonchalant, his gaze buried in his oatmeal.

"Yeah, Christine's going to take her to work with her on Saturday, so I can meet them in New York. Figured that'd be easier than driving all the way to Philly and back."

"You should," Luke says seriously. "Spend a few days at home, get some rest."

"Don't have time," Jess says evenly. "That stupid festival thing is on Monday, remember? I've got pizzas to make."

"Yeah, about that," Luke says, voice gruff, and Jess knows what's coming before he even says the first word. "Listen, I don't know how to...thank you for everything you've done here. You really went above and beyond, and I'm - "

"Yeah," Jess cuts him off, "look, it's way too early in the morning for this, so let's...not and say we did. Okay? I get it."

Luke rolls his eyes at him. "Mature."

Jess shrugs, unrepentant.

"So this is the part where I tell you to get back to your real life," Luke continues, still gruff, avoiding Jess' eyes. "Because I know you've got one. I've seen it."

 _How is this not my real life?_ Jess thinks, but doesn't say. "That's sort of the idea behind bringing Willa here," he says carefully. "And do you have a better idea for how to handle the diner? Because I don't."

Luke makes the face again, and shoves some oatmeal in his mouth resentfully.

Jess takes a breath, and goes for broke. "Look, you need help, Luke," he says. "Lorelai's got the Inn, she can't cover for you at the diner. Lane's pregnant again, she's going to have to cut back her shifts, go on maternity leave soon. And why don't you look me in the eye and tell me you can afford to hire someone else. Go on."

"We'll figure something out," Luke says stubbornly, a thread of anger making itself known.

"I've been doing your job for the better part of a month, I've seen your books. I know about the mortgage on the building. And I don't know how much Lorelai makes, but I know it can't be enough to carry two businesses, not to mention whatever you guys still owe on the house. And now you've got these medical bills...Luke. Come on."

"We will figure something out," Luke says again, insistently. "It's not your responsibility, Jess, it's ours. And I'm the one who got myself into this goddamn situation in the first place!"

"Is that what this is about, you feel guilty or something?" Jess scoffs. "Save it for Oprah, Luke. I've got better things to do."

"Damn right you do!" Luke says, throwing his spoon aside. " _Your_ daughter, _your_ job, _your_ life. Those are the things you need to concentrate on, not me. It's not your obligation to fix _my_ problems."

Jess feels a burst of anger and resentment so strong he has to stand up, turning away to the window so he doesn't say something he'll regret later. Even when he's doing the right thing, it's still not enough. Even with something like this, he can't manage to make Luke happy. Fucking figures.

"Look," Luke says, after a tense second, "I appreciate it, okay? I do. I really, really do. But come on, Jess, this isn't what you should be doing."

Jess has to count to ten before he responds. "I figure that's my decision to make, not yours, don't you think?"

He turns around just in time to catch Luke's scowl. "So what? What's the plan? You bring Willa here, keep staying at the diner, holding me up, and then what? I'm not gonna be back on my feet for awhile, Jess, you realize that? At least two months with this leg, and they're tellin' me I won't be able to spend as much time on my feet as before, not with my back. Then there's physical therapy and shit, that's another couple months at least, and by then it'll be summer, and then what? There'll never be a time when I'll stop needing help - for God's sake, I've always needed help! But I got by on my own! I figured it out! And Willa will be starting school before you know it. You gonna enroll her at Stars Hollow Elementary?"

"I was thinking about it," Jess says honestly, and Luke glares at him so hard that Jess is actually surprised he doesn't set off any medical alarms.

"Oh, go to hell," Luke says. "No. Don't even think about it."

"What? You just said it yourself, you're gonna be laid up for awhile."

"You cannot be serious," Luke says. "Jess - "

"No, listen to me. Shut up," Jess says seriously, and miraculously, Luke listens. "I've been talking to Matt and Christopher, and they're on board with making this a more permanent thing, me handling the bulk of the submissions and editing, and handing over the financials and face-to-face stuff to them. That's what we should've been doing from the start - it plays to our strengths. My lease is up in two months, and I wasn't planning on staying there anyway - the landlord's hiking up rent prices, and that stupid construction site next door is going to be there for at least a year - and Willa will need her own room eventually. And look, I don't know about school, that's still a good year away from now, but - for the time being, this makes sense. And it's not just because of you."

"Jess," Luke says incredulously, "you hate Stars Hollow. You couldn't _wait_ to leave. Every time you visit, it's like nails on a chalkboard for you, I can tell."

"And you hate the city," Jess shoots back, feeling reckless and wild, like the words are flying out before he can think about them too closely. "But if something like this happened to me, and I needed help with Willa, where would you be?"

Luke clears his throat, looking down at his lap.

"Because I think I know," Jess continues, "and I sure as hell don't think you'd refer to it as a fucking _obligation_."

"That's different," Luke says.

"It's really not." Jess turns back to the window for a second, tries to get his face under control. If Luke thinks he's upset, his credibility will be shot, and he'll be dealing with enough grief about all of this as it is. "Look, it's not completely selfless or anything, alright? Money's been tight lately, and it's not like I'm gonna pay you rent while I'm running your business for you. Things are cheaper up here than in the city, and I've got my pick of free babysitters."

"Jess," Luke says heavily, letting it hang in the air, an unfinished sentence.

"I'm not talking about forever. I'm talking about for now, and then we'll see how it goes. Okay?"

Luke doesn't reply, and Jess turns around to look. He looks tired, and older than he's ever looked, his skin pale and dark circles drawing heavily beneath his eyes. And he always looks kind of weird without his hat on, even when he hasn't been lying in traction for three and a half weeks. Jess' stomach lurches like it always does, with that twist of secondhand pain at seeing vulnerability in someone that Jess could always, always depend on to be an unshakable, fixed point.

"I never expected my life to be perfect, you know," Jess tells him. "I never expected to get everything I wanted, either. Usually it was the opposite." He swallows, thickly, and watches Luke lift his eyes slowly to Jess' face. "But I look at where I am now, with this amazing job with all these batshit amazing people, my beautiful, amazing daughter, and I'm so goddamn _lucky_ , Luke. I don't know what I did to deserve all this, but somehow I've got it, and you know, in comparison, living in a town I don't like seems like a pretty stupid thing to complain about, don't you think?"

Luke gapes at him for a second before he seems to gather his wits enough to reply, his voice gravelly. "You deserve better than that, is what I'm saying," he says. "You deserve to have everything you want. Just like Rory does, and April. You deserve the same, Jess."

Jess closes his eyes for a second. "Life doesn't work like that. At least not for guys like you and me." He shrugs. "You work with what you've got. And I've got more than enough, Luke. I really do."

Luke doesn't say anything, and Jess goes to sit back down. He feels exhausted, again.

"If you're gonna be in that apartment full time," Luke says after a long moment, "you'll need to take a look at the pipes. Some of them will need replacing by now, and the sealant on the kitchen window probably needs to be redone, too."

Jess rolls his eyes at him. "Okay. Sure. I'll find some time in-between the billion other things I gotta do this weekend to double check the fucking window glue."

"Don't cuss at me. I'm injured."

"I'll cuss at you as much as I like while I'm doing your job for you, old man."

Luke grumbles something, and picks up his spoon. "Oh, this is gonna be real fun. I'm not gonna regret this at all."

Jess grins.

* * *

If Jess had any anxious thoughts about grudges and temper tantrums and abandonment complexes, they're all gone within the first two seconds of Willa's exuberant hug. She clings to his neck for a full five minutes, babbling excitedly in his ear about all the cool, awesome, amazing stuff she's done, and he should've been there because it was so cool, Daddy, honestly.

"I wish I had been there," Jess tells her, holding onto her just as tightly, content to let her hang from his neck for the rest of her life, if that's what she wants. "So you had fun, huh?"

"I had _so_ much fun but I'm _so_ happy you're here Daddy can we have pizza for lunch?" Willa says.

"We had pizza for breakfast, FYI," Christine says. Jess glares at her, and she snaps her gum at him. "What? It was breakfast pizza."

"It had bacon and I liked that but I made Uncle Matt take off the eggs because I don't like eggs," Willa rambles.

Jess laughs. "We can have pizza if you want, baby. But I've gotta talk to you for a minute first."

"Okay," Willa says cheerfully, still squeezing his neck.

Jess pulls at her arms gently. "So...can you sit back for a second, or...?"

Willa lets go of him reluctantly, settling down into his lap. Jess keeps one arm around her back, his heart tugging itself into pieces at the look on her face.

"I'll leave you guys alone for a bit," Chris says, smiling at Willa softly. It's the only time she ever actually does that - her resting face sort of reminds Jess of Nick Nolte's mugshot. "If you can stick around for another half an hour, I can come to lunch with you if you want."

"Sure," Jess says, settling down contently with Willa. "We can stick around, right Wills?"

"Stick around, up _and_ down," Willa says in a sing-song voice, a quote from some kid's song album that Matt is always playing for her. Chris and Jess both laugh.

"Great." Chris grins, and mouths 'good luck,' before disappearing into the mass of people in the museum's lobby, her garish apron quickly blending into the bright colors of the crowd.

"So," Jess says, leaning his head against the crown of Willa's for another moment, reveling in the familiar smell of her hair, the warmth of hands in his. "You had fun, huh?" Willa nods. "I'm glad. I'm sorry I had to stay away for so long."

"It's okay," Willa says, picking at a button hole in Jess' jacket. Her face is a bit more closed down now, the excitement having faded a bit, and the memory of being left probably returning. Jess breathes through it; he deserves it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you why I left, too," Jess says, pausing long enough to give her a chance to say something else, if she wants. She doesn't. "It was because of Grandpa. He needed some help, so I had to go stay with him for awhile, and I couldn't take you with me because everyone was really busy."

Willa frowns, her fingers still tangled in Jess' jacket. "Why did he need help?"

"Because he had an accident, Willa. He fell and hurt himself." Jess smooths her hair back with one hand, watching her face carefully. "He's okay now, but he hurt his leg, and he can't walk for a little bit. And Aunt Lorelai needed some help right away, which is why I went."

Willa darts a quick look up at him, then quickly looks down at her hands, focused intently on Jess' jacket. She doesn't say anything.

"Honey," Jess says helplessly, his stomach twisting, "it's - it's alright to be upset. But I want you to know that Grandpa is fine, okay? He's absolutely fine. His leg is hurt, but it's going to get better."

Willa nods, rubbing her cheek against her upper arm. Her forehead is twisted tight, deep lines etched between her eyebrows.

"If it's alright with you," Jess says slowly, "we'll go and see him tonight, when we get to Stars Hollow. He's been asking about you, he can't wait to see you."

"I wanna see Granpa," Willa says quietly.

"Then we'll go see him. I'll take you straight there." Jess runs his hand through her hair again. Her shoulders are so tense. "You'll have plenty of chances to spend time with him. We'll be in Stars Hollow for awhile, so we can go visit him whenever you want."

"With Aunt Lorelai?"

"She'll be there a lot, yeah. But you and me are staying above the diner."

"Okay," Willa says, and goes quiet again. Jess sighs and gathers her up against his chest. She curls up instantly, tucking her head beneath his chin and shoving her hands underneath Jess' collar.

"Look," Jess says, and falters, unsure of how to say what he wants to say in a way that she'll actually understand. "Willa, I know that...it's scary sometimes, when things change really fast. You don't always know what's going to happen, because everything seems really different, out of nowhere, right?"

Willa shrugs, picking at Jess' collar fastidiously. Jess squeezes her shoulder affectionately.

"But I want you to know that _I'm_ never gonna change, okay? No matter what happens, where we live or work, where you go to school, or your friends, or even my friends...all of that stuff is going to change a lot, as we get older. But I'm always gonna be with you, and I'm always going to be your dad. You know that, right?"

"Uh hum," Willa says.

"I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow, and the day after that, and it's only gonna get bigger, the bigger you get," Jess says. "And one day I'm going to love you so much that we'll both explode into tiny little pieces all over the sidewalk, and people will walk by and say, 'wow. That's a whole lotta love right there.'"

Willa laughs. "Love doesn't make you explode."

"Really? I always thought it did."

"Love makes you go like this," Willa says, and shakes her head back and forth quickly, whipping her hair against Jess' face. Jess laughs in surprise.

"Okay, then we'll do _that_ until we explode."

"Boom," Willa says happily, and settles back down against his shoulder.

Jess kisses her forehead again, his heart full. "Boom," he agrees.

* * *

 _okay so finally, here it is! the point i've been working towards for 50k+ words! i got a little sidetracked i admit, but my big dark secret for this story is that it actually came about because i was thinking about how jess might get to a point where he would willingly move back to stars hollow. surprise!_

 _i love you all and thank you so much for sticking with me, i've had a blast. i'm writing an epilogue, so you'll hear from me at least one more time, but i'm always open to prompts. i might not fill them right away, but hit me up on tumblr if you want (jaegermighty). :)_


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